He read it standing up.I had expected him to sit. I had cleared a chair for him beside the desk and set the document flat in the lamplight and stepped back to give him room. He looked at the chair, looked at the document, and remained standing. He picked it up and read it the way he read everything, without rushing, without performing, with the complete and steady attention of someone for whom attention was a deliberate choice and not a passive state.I watched his face.He read the fragment Rowan had presented in the council session first. I saw him move through it, the bond between wolves of power, the buried blood surfacing, the kingdom either collapsing or transforming. The three sentences Rowan had read aloud in that lit room with his audience of witnesses and his incomplete architecture.Then Austin turned to the continuation.The second elder's hand was different from the first. Slightly cramped. More urgent, as if the writer had been pressed for time or pressed by something e
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