He laughs softly. “That would take a very long time to list. There are plenty of things I can’t do. Plenty of things Magi used to be able to do and can no longer. And, that list only gets longer.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our magic is weakening, pet. Our magic is from the Gods, and the Gods have been gone for a long time. Each generation’s magic is weaker than those before it.”
It takes me several seconds to process that. “That means…”
“That someday we’ll all be noughts again.”
“This is why they were so upset about your heirs…”
“Yes, the Scions value preserving their power above all else.”
“The Scions?” I repeat.
“The Scions are the closest descendants to the last Gods that roamed the earth. Those that rule the kingdoms.”
“You’re a Scion?”
“Yes.”
“Morin?”
“Everyone that was at that middle table was a Scion of some sort.”
“And since you’re a Scion, that means you’re more powerful?”
“Generally.”
I’m quiet for a few minutes as I take all that in, connecting all the pieces.May you be fitted with a wife more suited to carry your heirs.“I’m sorry,” I say finally.
“Why?”
I twiddle with the pommel. “I guess I understand better what makes me, you know, apunishment…”
He goes quiet and still before leaning forward in a low voice, “Ah, yes, you are truly such a torture. All of your sassy, disrespectful, naive, but utterly reckless and skittish nature. I don’t know how I’ll ever survive you—“
“Hey,“ I snap, as I launch an elbow back that never meets its target as his hand binds around my arm. “I’m trying to be serious.”
“And, violent. I nearly forgot that one.” I attempt to wrench my arm from his hold, but he draws it behind my back and uses his other hand to tilt my chin up and meet his gaze. “Don’t do that,” he says sternly. “Don’t apologize when you’ve done nothing wrong.”
His hand is pleasantly warm. “I…I don’t want to rob you of anything.”
“You aren’t,” he says firmly as he lets me loose and takes the reins back in his hands.
“But what about your heirs? Don’t you care about preserving your magic?”
He grunts out a noise of disgust. “That’s the equivalent of me asking you:what about your Shroud, Pandora? Don’t you care about preserving your purity?”
“How is that the same? Your magic is real.”
“Magic isn’t everything, and it doesn’t matter how carefully we arrange our marriages, how many Magi we force into existence unless the Gods return, our magic will fade.”
“It really doesn’t bother you?”
“Not only do I not care, but I think how much emphasis the Scions put on breeding is gross,” he spits. “And that was a full ten questions.”
“What! No, it was not.”
