High College for a child.” A black lump rose in Crispin’s throat, and he nodded. They were palatine. Their genetic code was so complex, so over-written that it was impossible for any palatine to have a child in the old way, without the decoctions and uniquely tailored enzymes that protected against deformity or the stillbirths so common amongst those palatine nobiles who sought to have children outside state control. He shuddered, imagining his father living out his days alone in Devil’s Rest, his house destroyed by political maneuvering: denied fruit or flower. It was enough—almost enough—to
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