Page 194 of The Silent War

“We need to talk about heirs.” I said, taking one cigarette from him.

He didn’t look up right away. “We already agreed.”

“Not like this.” I kept my voice even, but my hand was tight around the glass edge of the table. “I want it between us—spoken. Ours areours. Whether they take the oath or not, no one is cutting them off.”

That got his eyes on me.

“No one’s taking them from us, Bastion,” he said, like it was fact.

I shook my head. “You know this family. A Crow who doesn’t swear in is treated like a ghost. Titles stripped. Protections gone. You watch your own blood walk past you in the street like they never knew you.”

“Not happening. Not to ours. Not for any oath. The dynasty doesn’t decide who they belong to. They belong tous.”

“Good.” My jaw clenched around the word. “Because I don’t care if our son spits on the crest or our daughter refuses every path they set for her. They’ll still have every shield, every dollar, every nameplate. They’ll live under our roof. Eat at our table.”

“They’ll still carry our name,” he exhaled.

“And our blood. We decide how they’re raised. We decide when they’re seen. And if she needs us to pull them out of the public eye?—”

“Then they disappear,” he said, like it was already done. “Same way she did when she needed it.”

“Then it’s set,” I said. “No handlers. No dynasty tutors we don’t pick. No one outside this family decides their worth.”

He leaned back, holding my gaze. “Ours.”

I nodded once. “Ours.”

Chapter Fifty-Eight

EMILIA

Vivienne’s laugh cut across the table, sharp enough to turn a few heads from the next booth. “You’re glowing, Em. Don’t even try to hide it.”

Charlotte smirked into her glass. “She’s terrible at hiding it. Look at her. That’s not dynasty-polish smiling. That’s…” she twirled her straw in the ice, “—the kind that gives you away.”

I forced a laugh, reaching for my fork, anything to break their focus. “I’m not glowing. I’m tired.”

“Please,” Vivienne rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen you after a week of dynasty dinners. That’s tired. This?” She gestured at me with a flick of her wrist, rings flashing. “This is hope.”

Hope. The word almost caught in my throat.

I picked at the edge of my napkin instead of answering. Because if I said it out loud…

Vivienne leaned in. “So? What is happening? Has a merger been set?”

“Do we like him, or them?” Charlotte asked.

I shook my head, smiling like it was all a joke. “Nothing is official. Nothing is signed.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Vivienne teased. “You’re living it. We can see it.”

But they didn’t see. Not the way it felt to sit here and pretend my entire life wasn’t hanging on signatures and blood. Not the way it felt to keep a secret that was heavier than the Accord itself.

I wanted to tell them. Wanted to sayyes, it’s real, it’s them, it’s always been them. But my family didn’t know. And until the announcement was carved in stone, the paperwork was signed by both dynasties, I was drowning alone.

Because the truth was brutal, the Adams would never let the Accord slide quietly into Crow hands. The Accord was the spine of the dynasty, the thing generations had built their power on. To give it up was to kneel—and the Adams didn’t kneel.

I knew what that meant. What it could mean for me.