> Mallory
"Pardon?" I asked before I could stop myself.
The word slipped out sounding small, thin—almost like it wasn't mine. My hands froze in mid-air, fingers suspended awkwardly between reaching for my tea cup and pulling them back to me. I didn't even know what gesture I had been about to make. My thoughts scattered like someone had tipped them straight off a table.
The old man didn't blink, he stared straight through me. His expression serious.
"I won't repeat myself." His voice was flat and cold, like he'd asked me to pass him the salt instead of something that could change my child's entire life.
Like I have no choice to say otherwise.
Both of his hands rested on top of his cane. He leaned forward just enough that the light caught his eyes, turning them even darker.
"I want you to change my great-grandson's surname to Archeval."
The words echoed in my head. A slow and heavy sound playing on repeat.
