They don't answer.
Because they already know.
Seraphina's silver eyes flicker with suspicion. Zareth watches me like I've just given him a particularly interesting puzzle to solve—one that involves explosives.
And then, before either of them can question me further, the grand doors swing open.
A suffocating wave of authority washes over the room. The kind that makes lesser beings lower their heads and question every life decision that led them to this moment.
My parents have arrived.
Verania and Sylvithra enter first, their presence alone enough to silence the lingering conversations. They move with the kind of grace that implies they could either give a formal diplomatic speech or start a war, depending on their mood.
My grandparents follow close behind, their expressions ranging from amused (Saelira) to absolutely unimpressed (Eryndor). Ilythia and Veylen remain silent, the type of silent that means they're very much enjoying whatever is about to happen.
And behind them—
