It started over breakfast.
Mira had been at the Citadel for two days and the mornings had found their shape already, the particular way a household absorbed a new person when the person fit, not without adjustment but without friction, the small rearrangements of space and habit that happened naturally when something was right.
Mira woke early. This turned out to be something she and Aelara had in common and something Caelum had in common with both of them, so by the third morning the three of them had established an unspoken arrangement where the kitchen belonged to early risers before eight and the rest of the household arrived when it arrived.
Lyra arrived at eight fifteen with her hair not fully sorted and sat down at the table with the morning expression she always had, present but not yet assembled.
Vaelor arrived at eight thirty, which was late for him, and attributed it to nothing and was not asked.
