Chapter 5
The knitted rabbit contained the first clue.
Elias refused to sleep without it.
Celia handed it to me after he finally went down.
“Your mother gave this to me.”
“I know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“After Elias was born, she added something.”
Inside the green stitching around the paw was a tiny folded strip of fabric.
Not paper.
My mother hated anything that could easily burn.
One sentence embroidered in tiny letters:
NO CHILD OWES THE CHAIR HIS CHILDHOOD.
I stared.
My mother had opposed the First Son Understanding.
Celia nodded.
“She told me your father did too, near the end.”
“What?”
Apparently my father reconsidered after watching his own sons compete under expectations created before they understood them.
My younger brother left.
My older cousin destroyed himself chasing approval.
By the time Elias was born, Father had quietly abandoned the idea of automatic succession.
Cedric knew?
Celia did not know.
But someone did.
My mother had said:
“They won’t all accept it immediately.”
Then she died before making the change public within the family.
My father followed eighteen months later.
Old custom remained.
Conveniently.
Rafe searched Father’s private cabinet.
We found an audio recorder.
My father’s voice.
Older.
Tired.
Clear.
“No child is born owing this family leadership.”
I closed my eyes.
Then:
“If Ronan has a son, let him be a son before anyone makes him an answer.”
Cedric had heard this.
I knew before asking.
His expression told me when I played it.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“Why ignore him?”
“Because he was dying.”
I stared.
Cedric continued:
“Men become sentimental near death.”
There.
He believed Father’s final wisdom was weakness.
So he preserved the harsher version.
Not tradition.
Selection.
May you like
Cedric chose which dead man to obey.
The one who justified Cedric’s authority.
