"I will not force her," Reuben said.
The response hung like frost in the air. Ceres looked down at her plate, suddenly fascinated with her bread.
A servant appeared with a fresh pot of tea, moving as silently as a ghost through the tension-laden hall.
King Heimdal pushed back his plate and rose to his feet. The legs of his chair scraped against the marble floor like a blade drawn from its sheath.
"If the woman chose you, then do as you will," he said at last, voice low. "But know this, Reuben: if you divide this family for the sake of a woman, even one so worthy... you had best be sure she is worth the kingdom you risk."
And with that, he left the hall, his cloak sweeping behind him like the shadow of a storm.
Reuben stood there, hands clenched at his sides, heart pounding in his chest like a drum of war.
He had won nothing. Not yet. But he had not lost, either.
There was one thing he forgot to ask his father.
