Persephone did not wait for the plates to be cleared.
Dinner at the Ryker house had been a good one. Mary had made a stew on one of the portable camp stoves from the mall haul, with carrots and potatoes pulled that morning from the space's fields, and the table had emptied the pot and gone back for bread. Nobody here went hungry. It was one of the things they never said aloud, and one of the reasons the room held its voice low.
When Silver set his spoon down and the table's attention began to loosen, Persephone put both palms flat on the wood.
"I need to say something," she said. "And I need you to let me say it badly."
Dahlia looked up from across the table. Victor's hand, which had been resting on her knee, went still. Silver did not move at all, which was how Persephone knew he was listening harder than anyone.
"Go on," he said.
