Sigrid turned sharply. The crease between her brows deepened. "For what?" she asked quietly, though pressure weighed behind her voice. "What more could you possibly say to him?"
Marquess rose from his chair. His cloak shifted with the tension in his body, as though the burden of years was finally demanding to be borne consciously.
"We cannot keep waiting," he replied. "If this continues, that bond will destroy everything Demian, Ivanka, even the stability they have always prided themselves on."
Sigrid folded her arms. "You intend to admit your mistake before the Emperor?"
Marquess let out a short, bitter laugh. "The Emperor has never cared about mistakes. He only cares about consequences."
He took several steps toward the window. The night outside was thick with darkness, the torches of the palace flickering like watchful eyes. It was the same sight as years ago the night they chose to force fate to bow to human will.
