Brie

Logan steps into my dad’s office. All eyes turn to him as he scans the men–Sydney, Grandpa Ryatt, my father, a few others that serve both my father and grandfather as generals, captains, and commanders. Logan’s eyes are like polished, imperfect emeralds as he eyes my grandpa wearily, like he’s not entirely sure he understands what Ryatt just said to everyone in the room.

“Brie, you don’t need to be here for this,” Aviva whispers behind me, knitting her fingers in mine.

But Logan growls, “She stays.”

A silent, heavy, creeping hint of tension scatters around the room. The entire castle would explode if someone lit a match right...