The mattress dipped.
Seraphine slid her hands beneath his ribs and the base of his skull, lifting him from the crib. She supported his weight effortlessly, pulling him flush against her chest. The rough, silver-threaded fabric of her apron scratched against his cheek. She smelled of crushed lavender, parchment, and the metallic tang of coin dust.
Elias kept his spine rigid. He tried to hold his adult consciousness separate from the physical contact.
His biology betrayed him. The infant nervous system registered the warmth, the steady beat of her heart, and the gentle sway of her posture, releasing a heavy dose of natural sedatives into his bloodstream. His muscles went slack. His head drooped, resting entirely against her collarbone.
The comfort felt deeply unearned.
