Palamedes isn’t always the most observant person when it comes to other people’s emotional states, particularly when he’s being fueled by some new scholarly idea or other, but even he can tell that from the look on Darlington’s face that he has walked into a child-propelled hurricane. The barking and the baby’s wail fill the house, leaving Palamedes regretful that he hadn’t texted first.

“I’m interrupting,” he says, and it isn’t really a question. “Sorry, I can come back another time. I came up with some new wards that I thought you might be interested in testing out—I think I’ve managed to layer necromantic theory and some of your magic—but if this isn’t an opportune moment…”