The communication channel opened at nine in the morning.
Dorian's liaison — a quiet, precise man named Sael who had the specific competence of someone who had been facilitating difficult conversations for long enough to make it look effortless — confirmed the connection from his end and then stepped back to his witness position against the wall.
Cael was at the table with me. Kaden was in the adjacent room — present in the building, not in the conversation. His choice, clearly stated the night before: This is yours. I'll be here if you need me. But the conversation is yours.
I had not argued.
The voice that came through was mid-register, careful, carrying the specific quality of someone who had been rehearsing this moment and was now discovering that rehearsal and reality are different
