Lucian was born where the winds swept storms over a land so soiled with the sins of a bloody history that even the shadows had eyes of their own, took his first steps over the stones of a sinking city, and watched his first execution beneath the Prague Orloj on the eve of his eight birthday. Whitby as much as Edward saw it as a pit, Clan McKennas found it a sanctuary. 

“The crown has given you a home and structure, do you not get a proper education now? If it were not for Our Queen, you would be working in a factory right now.” Fintan would be furious to hear those words from his son, but in truth Lucian just wanted to rile him up. 

“And I’ll tell you what…” Luc undid his scarf, and motioned for the harbor, “I’ll tie it to the top of my father’s skysail and you can have it if you can even get to it.” He narrowed his dark eyes, sinister little things as they were, “Unless you are too afraid.”