Genevieve's POV
I settled into the plush chair across from my father in the estate lounge, cradling my coffee cup between my palms. The liquid had cooled to room temperature, but I kept my fingers wrapped around the ceramic surface anyway. It anchored me while we exchanged pleasantries about trivial matters. The morning drizzle streaking the windows. The blooming roses he had admired in the courtyard earlier. Whether the circle's elders were deliberately arriving late to show solidarity with Alpha Benedict.
My father appeared completely at ease. Ever since Benedict's capture, he had transformed into someone almost unrecognizable. With the trial scheduled to begin and conclude today, there was an airiness to his demeanor I had not witnessed in years. Like invisible chains had finally been severed, releasing him from some unseen burden. He reclined in his armchair, coffee balanced precariously on the armrest, discussing inconsequential topics with genuine interest.
