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His father paused, toast in mid-air. “I am telling you to find a solution to a problem you created. Just because you find the task unpleasant does not make it impossible.”

“But itisimpossible. How am I to undo something the gods designed not to be undone?”

His father shrugged a shoulder. “I trust you will find an alternative solution.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Failure is never an option, Son,” he replied darkly, his power thickening around him and Eviana tensing as he presumably drew from her reserves. “But I suppose if you do not find a suitable alternative, her death will have to do.”

Theon went rigid, his darkness bursting forth at the mere idea of Tessa being threatened.

His father’s lips lifted in the smallest of smirks before his power was slithering across the table and winding around Theon’s throat. He could do nothing, not with Eviana’s power fueling his father’s. So he sat there and took it like he had for years. Unable to breathe, but forced to keep calm and collected. Forced to not show any type of reaction or his father would drag this out even longer. There were plenty of times he’d slipped into unconsciousness only to come to on the floor.

Finally, his father withdrew his magic, Theon’s own darkness dissipating to prove submission. Something he’d learned long ago appeased the bastard. Some days he fought more, but this meeting needed to end favorably, so today he’d play by his father’s rules.

Valter was already back to cutting the last of his steak as if nothing had happened. “Your Source problem is not the reason for this morning’s meeting.”

Source problem.

“How is our other agreement coming along?”

Theon’s brow furrowed. “What other agreement?”

“The one that mars your skin.”

“Our Bargain?” Theon asked in surprise. “A Match contract is signed. You know this already. You witnessed it.”

“And the rest of that agreement?” Valter asked before taking a drink of his juice, unblinking gaze fixed on Theon.

“The rest of that…” Theon lurched back in his chair. “Theheir? We can’t have our Match Ceremony until the Selection Year is completed. It is in the accords.”

“There is no law stating an heir cannot be conceived before a Match Ceremony has taken place,” his father replied, placing his silverware on his empty plate. A Fae immediately appeared, clearing the dirty dishes while another refilled his coffee cup. “As long as the child is produced with your Match, there will not be any issues. The problems come if a child is conceived with…another.”

The last word was said pointedly, and Theon bristled at the implication. “I think I am dealing with more than enough at the moment. Producing an heir is not high on that list,” he bit out, his patience thinning.

“I do not give a fuck about your priorities, Theon,” Valter returned, his voice turning low and deadly. “The only priority here is securing our position in Devram. An heir is necessary.”

“Not for decades,” Theon argued.

Valter scoffed. “If you think I am waiting decades to make sure our bloodline is secure, you are mistaken.”

“Surely it can wait until after the Selection Year. Until after everything with Tessa?—”

The growl that came from his father at her name had Theon tensing and using all his control to keep his darkness from making another appearance.

“She was never supposed to end up as yours,” Valter snapped.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Theon demanded.

His father inhaled deeply, his calm, collected mask visibly slipping back into place. “It means you were supposed to Select a Fae, not some mixed lineage mutt that is delaying everything. Somehow you managed to fail at something that was seemingly impossible to fail at.”

He didn’t flinch at the words. His father had slung enough insults at him throughout his life. He’d been hearing how much of a failure he was for as long as he could remember. So he said nothing, his palms flat on the table as he worked to control the only thing he could in this room: his power.

His father stood, Eviana doing the same despite her breakfast being only half finished. “You will do this, Theon. It was part of our agreement.”

“There was never a timeline stated,” Theon spat.

A dark, amused look formed on his father’s features. “You think you are clever enough to outmaneuver me on this? If you think you can find a loophole in a Bargain, surely you are capable of finding one in regards to your Source.” Theon opened his mouth to say something in response, but his father raised a hand, effectively silencing him. “But since you are determined to defy me on this, apparently you need to be reminded of the hand that feeds you, so-to-speak. Your rations will be withheld this week.”