"How many?"
"As many as the Stone asks for. One son, certainly. Daughters are rare and precious, as I told you. We will want as many of those as the Stone grants."
"We."
He holds my wrist a second longer and then lets it go.
"You are angry," he says.
"I’m not angry," I say. Too fast.
"You are."
"I said I'm not?—"
"Elena." He says it like a correction. "You are angry, and you are afraid. I am not telling you what to feel. I am telling you what is true so that you can be angry about the right things."
“And why are daughters precious?” I ask, voice trembling and brittle.
His face shifts, just a little, and a hint of tenderness slips through. “They are the future of the Reach. They bring alliance, peace, and strength. And more children.”
I feel my hands curl into fists, anger and fear mingling inside me. “So you’ll just… assign them to other warlords? Like they assigned me to you?”
He doesn’t flinch at my challenging words. “If that is what is decided. If the bond is there.”
I think of my daughters being born here, raised for a future they never chose, their fate sealed by a piece of rock and a planetary need for stability.It’s not personal, it’s just the system,they’ll say. Like that’s better. But systems don’t care whether they break someone.
A rush of blood hits my ears. “And what if I don’t want that for my children?”
His calmness never wavers. He seems immune to everything crashing through me. “You think this is cruel. But it is order. Without order, there is only war. Like you left behind.”
I lean against a wall, shaking. The urge to cry is strong, but I hold it down.
“You make it sound so reasonable.”
He gives a half-shrug and takes a drink from a cup. “The plan was made after many mistakes. Perhaps this one is a mistake, also. But it is the plan.”
I look up and meet his gaze. There is no malice in him. Only certainty.
I straighten, sudden and graceless. “I’m done eating. I need a room. Alone.”
Rythar narrows his eyes, displeased. “My bride shares my room. My bed.”
“I’m not sleeping in your bed.”
“There is one bed. My bed. Now it is our bed.” He says it patiently, like he’s educating me rather than negotiating.
"Then you can sleep on the floor."
"Elena," he says, as though I’m the one being unreasonable.
My name is in his mouth like a warning. I know it and I keep going anyway. "I said the floor, Rythar. You can take it, or I can."
He sets his cup down. Very carefully.
"We will continue this inside," he says quietly.
"I'm not going inside with you."
