Roland picked up where his wife left off.
"When you declared yourself as the Arkwright heir in our home, we panicked. The political implications, the danger—we thought only of protecting ourselves and our position. But in doing so, we failed you. Failed the oath our house swore to yours generations ago."
He met Jaenor's gaze directly.
"We can't undo that failure. Can't change what we did—or didn't do—that night. But we wanted you to know that we recognize our mistake, that we've spent these days trying to find ways to make amends."
Jaenor studied them both, his Arkwright senses reading the connections and emotions beneath their words. The guilt was genuine. The desire to make things right was real. They'd carried this weight for days, and it had cost them—he could see it in the strain between them, the way their bond showed stress fractures from shared shame.
"I don't blame you," Jaenor said quietly, surprising them both.
