There was an argument to be made that Elia had sacrificed the people that she was born to, not the family she had built for herself. The latter had been created over a decade, one by one, chosen and cultivated, while the first had been nothing more than chance and genetics. Even then, the people that the witch actually cared about could be counted on one hand – with fingers left over.
His raised brows won him a slight quirk of her lips, a twitch at the corner. "You're supposed to be calming? Management's a little checked out lately, aren't they? Believing that you're checking in when clearly you're just lurking about to unsettle the pretty girls." The dark-skinned fae girl came to mind, and Elia's smile widened a little. "Or to pick out your next bed-warmers, maybe. Don't take this the wrong way, Kennet my darling, but I don't think Deja has the right stuff to handle you. She's still a little on the twitchy side."