“Not while you’re still under my protection.”
“The question,” she asserted, “as to whether I am going is not up for debate, Commander.”
Storne’s brows raised. Half stunned. Half impressed.
But his voice hardened, clipped with command.
“As commanding officer of the entire northern theatre of Elváliev, it is my right and my duty to deny you passage when it conflicts with your safety. And as your father, I cannot stand by and let you ride into danger.”
“As of the ninth hour yesterday,” she declared, “you were relieved of that burden.”
He straightened, but she didn’t falter.
“I was your equal until the Senate voted. Now I am your queen.”
Her voice cut low.
“And I am going to find my husband.”
She turned on point at that. Exactly the way he’d trained his soldiers.
Without a word, she walked out the door.
And Storne finally exhaled.
He closed his eyes a moment.
Soft footsteps on the stone.
A pair of arms slid around his shoulders.
Saecily whispered in his ear, “She’s ready.”
He laid his hand atop hers.
“I knew this would be difficult,” he murmured. “But I could never have anticipated all that lays ahead of us.”
She kissed his cheek.
“No prize worth winning comes easy.”
Then she stood. Turned around. Leaned against his desk.
His eyes drifted from the doorway up to her.
“I would be remiss,” she said, “if I did not beg you to dispatch me to Aerdania.”
“Saecily—"
His voice cracked, like she’d looped a rope around his ribs and pulled.
“I cannot have my heart in so many places at one time.”
She drew in a shaky breath.
He set his hand upon her thigh.
“I’ll send word to the eastern villages. To bring their wounded here.”
