"Father, Rowan only awakened last night."
Celeste released the chair and faced him. Her voice shook, but she made herself continue.
"He's only a Level One. A F rank. He hasn't chosen a Blessing. Sending him to the Northern Wall now would be sending him to die."
Edmund brushed a fleck of food from his sleeve.
"He is talented," she added. "Sir Luke has been teaching him. Give him time to grow, and he could-"
"Would you let your family die for him?"
Celeste stopped.
The king pointed toward Helena, her mother, then the three children standing among the ruined breakfast dishes.
"Your mother. Your brothers and sisters. Me. Are we worth less to you than a boy you barely know?"
"That isn't what I-"
"Then why are you arguing?"
Celeste looked at her mother who just spoke. Helena waited for an answer without a trace of sympathy.
She couldn't give one.
