Breakfast was bacon and eggs and toast with marmalade, which Cianán had discovered early in the summer and approached with the same focused reverence he brought to everything Rowan put in front of him. Declan read the paper. Rowan refilled cups without being asked. The morning was ordinary and easy in the way the mornings had become.
Afterward, while Rowan cleared the plates, Aiden looked at Cianán across the table.
“Come up,” he said. “I want to show you my room.”
Cianán followed