No one spoke for a long moment after Peigi's words settled over the table. The brazier crackled softly. The stained glass window cast its golden light across the floor, and the wine jugs sat between the women like anchors holding them all in place.
Then Peigi set down her cup and folded her hands on the table.
"I'd like to offer something," she said. "As a gesture of trust. Not because I expect anything in return today, but because I believe that what we're building here will need a foundation, and foundations are built on honesty."
Her voice was steady, but Jocelynn noticed that Peigi's fingers had tightened against each other, and her knuckles whitened with the strength of her grip. Whatever she was about to say, it cost her something to say it.
"Most of you know my son, Rain," Peigi began slowly. "Or, at least, you know of him. What none of you know, what almost no one knows, is that while Rain is my son, he is not Tybal's child."
