"Who killed my parents?"
The question struck Lucien like a physical blow.
He reeled back, his face shifting through guilt, regret, and something close to shame so quickly that Aveline saw it all before he could hide it. For one brief moment, he looked less like the eccentric old genius she had come to know and more like a man cornered by a truth he had spent years avoiding.
Then, just as quickly, he brightened.
His gaze flicked toward the machine beside them, and he let out a breath that sounded almost forced. "Since you solved the problem I couldn't solve for years, I ought to give you the recognition you deserve." His hand moved vaguely toward the now silent machine.
"And since this stone seems to have no name of its own, you may name it as you wish. It will be called whatever you choose for as long as it exists."
Aveline pressed her lips together.
