The council chamber in Berkimhum's citadel had never felt smaller. Afternoon light slanted through high arrow-slits, catching motes of dust that drifted like slow ash.
Around him sat the people whose lives he had upended simply by existing: Lara, Claire, and the steward who handled refugees. Veil was absent—deliberately, Atlas suspected. Her sister's proposal had arrived by wooden ..letter that morning, and Veil had chosen not to be in the room when it was discussed.
Atlas read the single page twice, and then laid it flat on the table for everyone to see.
"Yes," he said, answering the question no one had yet dared to voice. "It's true. Tanya of the yormongander family tree has formally requested that I sire a child with her. The wording is courteous. The intent is not."
Silence answered him—thick, stunned, almost reverent in its horror.
He waited for it to break.
Lara broke it first.
