“Of course,” Tomaz said. “But you are not weak because you need help. You are not weak because you are grateful.”
The Prince coughed to clear his throat.
An arm wrapped around his shoulders.
“There you go,” the big man said. “There you go.”
And then the Prince was crying. Tears ran down his face, and silent sobs wracked his body. His forehead was buried in the big man’s enormous chest and hands bigger than the Prince’s head were patting him gently on the back, ruffling his hair with calm affection.
“I t-tried so hard,” he choked out, the words coming through a throat almost closed up with the emotion he had tried so hard to contain. “I d-did what th-they expected of me, at l-least I t-tried, but t-they st-st-still didn’t w-want me—”
He could say no more, and he broke down into sobs that shook his entire body. He clung to Tomaz as he had never been allowed to cling to another human being in his life. As he had never let himself cling to another human being.
“I know,” was all Tomaz said, over and over again. “I know. I know.”
He didn’t know how long they stood there, at the edge of the fire, but eventually he became aware of the quiet in the air around them, punctured onlyby the pattering sound of falling rain. Suddenly he felt suffocated by the big man’s nearness and pushed away from him. He walked around the fire, trying to put something between the two of them, but he felt the giant watching him, and so once he had gained the safety of space, he turned back.
Tomaz was watching him with a strange look, as if something he hadn’t anticipated had just taken place, something that had re-kindled a fire in his small black eyes.
“Why don’t you take a name?” he rumbled.
The Prince immediately felt himself close back up again, tensing, shutting down. He looked away with a sharp twist of his head, and when he looked back Tomaz was staring into the fire, as if it had only been a friendly question. He seemed just as interested in following the shifting, changing flames as he did the Prince’s answer. As the silence lengthened, Tomaz looked back up politely. Chips of dark black stone—not eyes. But there was a light in them. A light that was greater than the reflection of the fire.
“I have no name,” the Prince said finally. He was surprised to find that the pride was gone from the statement; there was no defiance in it now. He supposed Tomaz would have seen through it in any case.
“You sound sad,” the big man replied bluntly.
“I have no name,” the Prince repeated wryly. It felt strange to talk about this. Why had Tomaz brought it up? Was he trying to convince the Prince of something?
“Neither did I,” said Tomaz, “when I left the Fortress.”
It took the Prince a few seconds to realize what he’d just heard.
“What?”
Tomaz, still staring calmly into the fire, reached up and slowly undid his cloak, removed his shirt, and then the ties holding on his breastplate. He laid them gently to the side, and then he removed his leather jerkin, and finally aclose-fit woven tunic to leave himself bare-chested. He rose, his enormous muscles rippling in the firelight, and turned his back on the Prince.
Involuntarily, the Prince recoiled and drew in a sharp breath. Spreading across Tomaz’s shoulders and back was an enormous seven-pointed star, tattooed in blue and white ink with sparkling diamond flecks that shimmered in the reflected light of the fire.
It was the sign of a Blade Master, the most elite force of Fortress Guardians. Guardians were never seen outside of the Fortress unless they were in the presence of the Children, and Blade Masters were rarely ever seen outside of the company of the Empress herself unless it was for a mission of utmost importance that could be entrusted to no one else.
“How… how?” the Prince managed to get out. It was the last thing that he had expected: to find the most glorious and feared symbol of the Empire’s power here among the trees and wilderness, so far from the Fortress. It left his mind reeling.
“I left the Fortress nearly twenty years ago now, give or take a few,” the Exile said. He began to pull his tunic back over his head, calmly and with his customary assurance of movement. The same flowing movement the Prince had seen all of his life among the Guardians of the Fortress. How had he so easily dismissed that before?
“I had been a member of the Guard for five years before I was given a Summons to enter the presence of the Empress herself.”
Five years?thought the Prince in amazement. It was unheard of for a Guardian to be summoned that soon. There were precious few who were summoned before they had served ten years, maybe even fifteen.
“When I came into the throne room, my superiors were there, and every Blade Master then living. I was invited forward, told to kneel before the Empress by her Hand, and then she laid a single finger on my forehead.”
He seated himself again by the fire, once more fully dressed.
“I was told later that what she did was called delving, that she was examining me for the qualities of a Blade Master. All I remember was her nodding, and then I was given over to the Blade Masters, who took me and tested me themselves. Seven days of testing.”
The big man paused, and a grimace passed over his face. The Prince couldn’t imagine what had been terrible enough of a test to make him cringe like that at the memory, but he had heard rumors and knew that some did not survive it.
“I passed, though I felt at the time that I would rather have failed. It would have been less painful. My first assignment came soon after. I was the star pupil of the elder Masters, and they gave the assignment to me so that I could prove myself in the eyes of the Empress.”
