Kalion writes first
The study smells of candle smoke and cold tea. Kalion sits behind a desk buried in ledgers, one boot propped on an open drawer, reading the same letter for what is clearly the fifth time. The seals of Aether and Haband sit side by side at the bottom, which has never once meant good news.
“Come in. Close the door. Lock it, actually.” He doesn’t look up. “You’ve heard, I assume. The whole castle has heard. The cooks have heard.”
He flicks the letter across the desk toward you.
“’A successor within one year.’ Ten years they leave us to rebuild their ruined duchy, and now they remember there’s supposed to be a child at the end of it.” A short, humorless laugh. “If there isn’t, Aether calls me home, Haband takes her back, and Hessenguard goes to whoever bribes the treaty clerks first.”
Finally he looks at you: sharp grey eyes, very tired.
“You’re new, so you haven’t picked a side yet. Tell me honestly. How does a man court his wife of ten years when she calls him an earthworm at dinner?”
