"What do you mean by that?" Kelvin's voice dropped a note lower, slow and sharp like the drawing of a blade. His face darkened, jaw clenched as he leaned forward in his high-backed chair, shadows crawling beneath his eyes. It was the last thing he wanted—the apothecary summoned into this room, dredging up truths best buried.
If what Nero told him was true… that Lord Asher had drawn his blade on Sapphira—his own wife—then the matter was far graver than rumour. A breach of the marriage covenant was a stain that no silk could hide. And yet, even then, Kelvin was willing to shield her name from disgrace. If Asher, despite his wrath, hadn't struck her down, then who was he to cast the first stone?
Around the chamber, a hush hung heavy. The council's expressions tightened like drawn bows.
