The Correct Inheritance

The room was quiet.

Freya, in Kaelen's arms, moved one hand.

The gesture that was her gesture — the hand that had undone every framework at twenty weeks on a screen in Abiola's office, and had closed around one finger at nine hours and forty minutes, and was now, at three weeks, extended toward the room with the specific quality of someone acknowledging an audience.

Someone in the room laughed — a