Vincent answered without looking at me.
“Her body belongs to the dynasty she marries into. The terms won’t change.”
If I hadn’t heard it with myself. I wouldn’t have believed he was capable of saying it.
My hands clenched around the chair arms.
“Then we have one non-negotiable demand.” Uncle Zeke’s voice cut through the rising panic.
Damius lifted his chin.
“She is not to be branded. No crest carved into her back. No marks or dynasty rituals.”
“And,” Uncle Cole added, “she is not to be part of any of your public rites. We know the rumors. We know the filth you call tradition. You will not cut her or expose her?—”
The temperature dropped.
Nikolai went still.
Damius’ expression hardened into something lethal, a quiet violence that made the air feel sharper.
“You should not know those rituals exist,” Nikolai used that quiet crow voice that was aimed to send fear through your blood. Like normal. The tone worked.
Uncle Cole didn’t back down. “We do. You won’t parade her through them.”
“No,” Nikolai said again.
“No?”
“You have no claim. You will have no rights to approve or deny what happens under Crow rites.”
My stomach rolled.
Rites.
Plural.
Questions pressed at the back of my throat—what, where, how…but my mouth wouldn’t open. Words felt like they’d get me hurt.
“She will live with us,” my father said. “At the Thorne estate. She will not move into your territory.”
Vincent finally looked up.
Not at me.
At my father.
His stare was cold enough to freeze bone.
“She will live, where I want her.”
Silence devoured the room.
The aide cleared their throat, hesitant, as if they could feel the danger in the air and wanted nothing to do with it. “For the record, the Thornes must submit their guest list for the wedding within the week.”
A tablet slid across the table toward my father.
“These are the instructions for the crest appointment. She will have the full Crow crest tattooed on her back before the wedding. Our artists have designed it.”
