Matthias's recognition of Yerofei's name changed the atmosphere in the sitting room.
The fire had settled into a low orange glow behind its screen, and beyond the partially open bedroom door, Theodore remained asleep beneath the warm light of the nursery lamp. The palace outside their windows was quiet, Altera stretching beyond the gardens in scattered gold and silver lights, but Dean no longer felt particularly tired.
"You really knew of him," Dean said.
"Everyone near Dominic knew of Emperor Yerofei." Matthias shifted forward in the armchair, his long black hair slipping over one shoulder. "Palatine was too important not to. But I never met him personally."
Dean rested his forearms against his knees.
"There was a journal."
Matthias's attention sharpened.
"Yerofei's?"
"Fragments of it survived. Enough that my family eventually understood what his siren type actually did."
