A man who had served at court for two decades, who had navigated the political terrain of three imperial administrations, who had survived things that had broken other noble families entirely — he stood in this room and trembled like a man who had looked down and realized exactly how close to the edge he was standing.
He looked at Seraphina once more.
His only daughter. The child he had raised with every resource and attention he possessed. The girl he had been proud of, quietly and consistently, for her intelligence and her bearing and her ability to move through difficult circumstances with a grace that he had believed meant she understood the world she was moving through.
He raised his hand.
The sound of the slap cracked across the room.
