Gavriel Sterling had thought the woman in the red dress was the worst part. He was wrong. The worst part was nine old men in a council chamber.
"I have a wife," Tristan said, his voice dropping to a register that preceded very bad decisions.
"You have a chosen bond," Elder Vareth corrected. "The Moon Goddess has provided a fated one, which, in our culture, always outweigh the chosen. The solution is older than this council and well-established in precedent." He looked at Atlas as he spoke, the way a man looks at a king when he is about to deliver a recommendation he knows will be received with violence. "Take a second wife. Crown the fated tie, as the Moon Goddess intended. The chosen mate may retain her position in the household, with dignity, with respect, with the protections of her status. The fated bond is crowned. The alliance with General Willow is preserved. The dark magic recedes. The matter is resolved."
