It hurt and I was glad of it.
Pain, at least, belonged to the body it arrived in.
“No.”
My father’s face remained fixed. His attention moved to my bare wrists, where the formal cuffs should have been.
I had seen him notice before. This time, he understood.
“Caspian,” he said again.
“Lord Ashford,” I said, “I will speak my peace.”
Beside the witness table, Caswell shifted his weight. Quill noticed. Linden noticed. My father noticed. There were too many men in the room trained to read the cost of a breath.
They all saw what was happening. None of them reached it in time.
I redirected my attention back to Quill.
“You asked whether Astra Verita would accept the bond you prepared for her.”
“The question was proper,” Quill said.
“The question was yours,” I said. “She refused it.”
The basin water struck the rim again.
Astra drew in a breath. My hand wanted to close around hers. I kept it open.
“Caspian,” my father said.
Warning. Always warning. I had mistaken it for love too many times.
I looked at Astra.
Her chin stayed lifted. Under my palm, her pulse was racing.
Last night, she had asked me not to make her say it in a way the Council would recognize.
Tonight, I understood what I could give her.
A different question.
Linden’s pen waited.
Quill’s voice stayed mild. “And?”
“I have not asked mine.”
The hall went quiet.
My father set two fingers against the Ashford ring and held them there. Like he was afraid the words I spoke might turn it to dust.
Astra saw it.
Her eyes sharpened, and I knew she understood the cost before I had finished paying it.
Quill said, “You are not authorized to alter the ceremony.”
