LYSANDER
My father smiled again. It was colder this time.
"Blood has memories," he said. "And certain good actors took it upon themselves to recreate what was lost."
My eyes widened.
"Fleshcraft."
I adjusted in my seat and leaned forward.
"Father, that's a crime. An actual punishable crime."
He waved a hand dismissively.
"I didn't demand fleshcraft be performed or that I needed that specific kind of healer. I know to use my words carefully. And I documented everything I talked about with Pauline Strati. There is nothing that Lily of the Valley stands to lose in this."
I leaned back. My mind was still trying to catch up to what he was telling me.
"Except for one little thing," I said.
"What is that?"
I met his eyes.
"Did your promise to the Stratis include that I actually marry the Silver Creek girl?"
His eyebrow arched. The silence that followed felt deliberate.
"Why do you ask?" he said.
"I don't intend to marry the girl."
