"Then whom do you intend to marry?" Xarion's voice rose, sharp with fury. "That woman—the wife of a condemned traitor? The cast-off of the Valehart household?"
Rhaegar narrowed his eyes slightly, though his gaze remained steady.
"She is no traitor's wife," he said. "Her father's case was a miscarriage of justice."
"And what of the Valehart family?" his father let out a cold, derisive laugh. "She was the wife of the disgraced Dorian Valehart—that is an undeniable fact."
"Valehart is dead. She now stands a free woman."
Xarion strode forward until he stood directly before his son, towering over him like a looming storm.
"Rhaegar, mark my words well. This marriage alliance is not yours to discard at whim. Do you understand what the Tanmin family represents? Isabella's aunt is none other than the reigning Empress. To break this engagement is to shame the Tanmin house, to slight the Empress herself—to strike, in effect, at the dignity of the Emperor!"
Rhaegar did not answer.
