Distractedly, Lena waved her wand to ring the bell and furrowed her brow at her brother. She had been right to be concerned: he was still in obvious pain, could barely get out of his seat and seemed determined to martyr himself for the sake of his son. (It was a noble cause, she granted, because Theseus was her favourite nephew and therefore the most deserving of anyone’s time, but he would not be helped if Eugene injured himself beyond repair.)

“It looks like I came just in time,” she proclaimed, ordering tea from the housekeeper, and smiling stilly while the woman left the room. Marlena had no deference to Eugene’s housekeeper but she had never managed to entirely shake off the feeling that unladylike behaviour would be reported to their mother. “I can play with him, if it helps. How is he at puzzles? Aunt ___ bought me one for Christmas, but it might as well be for children, and it will help him learn his Norse runes.”

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