Grayson frowns, quiet now. The others are leaning forward, licking their chops. It’s a dysfunctional family that likes seeing its members laid low, but none of them know that Daddy talked with Grayson months before the meeting. Asked the man to stick his boots in the mud and brace himself for a good drag through it. He’s played his part well. Now it’s time to play mine.

“Freedom,” I say, letting them hear the deep certainty in my voice. Daddy wanted me to be visible today, memorable. “He doesn’t talk about freedom.”

Daddy nods. “Not once.”

“You can’t evaluate the cost of freedom,” Grayson complains.

“Agreed.” Daddy’s moving quick now, everything rehearsed. “Freedom is invaluable. Paxon ignored the idea because it weighs too much. We all know how much a drum of oil costs, Grayson. We can sell you a horse for the right price, too. But freedom? Too dangerous to set that on the scales. Paxon knew the men and women of the Reach would set every oil field on fire if it removed the chains the Ashlords still have around our wrists. It’s been centuries. Our ancestors came up here after the Dividian War and asked for one thing: freedom. And it’s the one thing that we still don’t have.”

Antonio Rowan raps his knuckles on the table in agreement. The Maggies are grinning like murderers, and even Gale Gusto’s wearing her little crease of a smile. Old Trask has war in his eyes, and the rest of the generals look like they can hear the sound of soldiers marching. Daddy has the room in thrall. They wanted to rise; he just needed to remind them they could.

“If you want war so you can line your pockets,” he says, “go on home. The war we start will cost us everything. The world will burn. We have to be brave enough to put the torch to it.”

Gale Gusto nods. “I know where you can get some oil.”

The room shakes with laughter, but it’s plain as day they’re still on the fence. Most of them have whispered rebellion into their cups, at their dinner tables, in their beds. Daddy knew they needed more than words. It’s easier to trust a man who stands to lose as much as you do.

“Adrian,” he says. “Stand up.”

I rise. Most of them remember the boy I was, but Daddy wants them to leave in awe of the man I’ve become. Standing is a good place to start. I’m a hand or two taller than any of them. I inherited broad shoulders, but the arms and chest are my own. I’ve spent the past few years making power into an art form. They all see it now. I am everything the Reach could be.

I am endless possibility.