[Lavinia's POV—A Week Later—Lavinia's Office]
"…So you're saying you cannot make Sera your next heir?"
My voice was calm. Too calm.
Across from me, Count Aureolmont of the Western Marches sat straight-backed, fingers folded neatly over his cane. He hesitated just a fraction before answering, and that hesitation spoke louder than any excuse ever could.
Sera stood beside him.
She did not speak—but disbelief flashed openly across her face, sharp and unguarded. For a heartbeat, she looked like a child who had been promised the sky and then told it was too far away.
Her father noticed.
Of course he did.
He turned toward her and smiled—soft, paternal, and unforced.
"It is not because you are my daughter, my dear," he said gently.
My gaze sharpened.
"Then what is the problem?" I asked.
He met my eyes without flinching.
