“I cannot say, Madeline,” he replied, licking his lips and willing the contents of his stomach to stay put. “There are . . . impediments.” Namely his suit before the Court of Arches and a tentative truce that allowed him to keep Madeline in his care. “Im-ped-i-ments,” she repeated slowly, as if savoring the word and committing it to memory. Damn, but she looked like her mother.
