_Author’s POV_
Pierre found his mother in the east sitting room after Kasper left.
Aria was at the window with her evening tea, which she took at the same time every day in the same chair facing the same view of the Greywood Pack’s front garden, a ritual so established it had become part of the house’s flow. She didn’t turn when he came in, which meant she had heard his footsteps in the hall and had decided on her posture in advance.
Pierre closed the door.
He did not sit down immediately. He stood in the center of the room for a moment, looking at his mother’s back, and took stock of what he was about to do.
He had been managing Aria’s feelings about Rowena for the last three years. Managing was the right word, not arguing, or confronting, just absorbing and redirecting a
