***Cadiz***
A year and six months had a strange way of passing when you were busy building something.
I found Camilla in the study, sprawled on the floor with Cassius's latest letter, reading it for what was probably the third time judging by how worn the folds had already become. Karl sat across the room pretending to review training reports, badly, the way he always pretended not to watch her.
"Good news?" I asked, settling into the chair by the window.
"Cassius says the baby kicks constantly now." She didn't look up. "Aldrik talks to his stomach every night like the child can already understand estate politics. Cassius says he's stopped correcting him."
"That tracks," I said.
"I know."
She folded the letter and added it to the stack tied with ribbon in her desk drawer, a growing record of a family that had finally learned to speak across distance instead of falling silent.
I made my way to the nursery, hearing the commotion long before I even reached the door.
