From Tiberius' perspective that ball had been entirely unremarkable (and just as thoroughly unenjoyable as balls in general). He'd danced with Antigone once near the beginning of the night, then a handful of other dances with various female relatives who dropped a hint that they felt so inclined tonight, then he'd spent most of the night at a card table in one of the side rooms. He had only noticed Antigone's demeanor in the carriage, and even then he hadn't know exactly what was going on, only that she seemed to have something on her mind. He'd lingered in the entryway at Oakshire Hall to see whether she would bring it up or not, rather than pressing on towards his own bedroom as he usually would. He didn't have to wait long for her to break the silence, though when she did it took him half a second to catch up to what she was talking about. There was only one vow of import in their lives, however, and it was clear from her tone that whatever she was talking about wasn't a trifling matter.

"You can't alter it," he said, peering into her eyes to try and determine where this statement had come from. He'd never been good at deciphering emotion on others. Was she angry? Frightened? She was more animated than usual, and speaking with some urgency, and she had grabbed his arm. This wasn't a request she'd been contemplating in the back of her mind for some months; it wasn't a carefully constructed argument where she'd done her research. This was impulsive, and driven by something. "Why? What's happened?" he asked, brows lowering. Antigone couldn't have broken the vow, or else she wouldn't still be here, but something had changed.

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