Page 13

“No, my lord.”

“Any summons for Vulmar or Grolm?”

“None that I saw.”

Telen reports only what he knows, which is one reason he remains useful.

I gesture toward the door. “Leave.”

Relief crosses his face before he lowers his head.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Telen.”

He stops.

“The next time you enter without knocking, make certain the spire is collapsing.”

His fingers curl against his tunic. “Yes, my lord.”

He leaves and closes the door with excessive care.

The study returns to order.

I place the slate beside the ledger. Zira’s meaning requires little interpretation. The Matrons have discussed the continuance of House Obsidius for months, first through suggestions, then through formal recommendations.

My bloodline ends with me.

The Council regards that fact as a failure of duty.

Demon births have slowed since our arrival on Galmoleth. A Matron may bear one or two children in a century, enough to hold a stable population under better circumstances. Our population is not stable. Too many died during Ikoth’s destruction and the crossing to this plane. Some houses have produced no children in 50 years.

House Obsidius is among them.

I have rejected three proposed human breeders and two offers from Matrons whose interest ended where political advantage began. The Council responded by reminding me that humans breed readily with every race.

Their reminders have become less subtle.

The first proposal arrived as a lineage chart and the name of a human woman from the eastern stock pens. The second included fertility records, as if reducing her life to successful births would make the offer more appealing. The third came with a warning that unused bloodlines weaken every house depending on them.

I returned each document unsigned.

The Matrons who approached me personally offered cleaner political advantages. One controlled access to summoned iron. The other could have placed two Council votes behind House Obsidius. Both spoke of children as obligations to be negotiated and partners as temporary instruments. Neither understood why I refused.

I supplied no explanation. My house does not owe the Council access to every reason behind its lord’s decisions.

Zira oversees lineage and population. If she intends to settle the matter, she may present a selected human and demand compliance. She may divide portions of House Obsidius among more productive lines. She may attempt to bind my position as arena-master to the production of an heir.

Each possibility mistakes pressure for authority over my private choices.

The Council commands my office. It may order an execution, a trial, or Galmoleth’s defense. My house remains mine.

I reach for the crystal vial secured at my belt.

A sliver of grounded lightning hums inside. Silver light moves through the shard as I roll the vial across my palm. The contained force brightens against the crystal before settling.

The habit began during long Council sessions. A dangerous object encourages clarity.