He was one of Father's friends—Lord Fitheal, master of the banks and now one of our southern cities. The tallest man in the room, he slammed a fist on the table and bellowed over the din. "We've wasted enough time arguing about what hangs between our Paragon's legs, when we've far more pressing issues to discuss."
Lord Fitheal's deep green eyes landed on me with an expression of pity. I quickly looked down.
Though Prince Laiserian had been quiet thus far, he finally rose and spoke. "Yes." He smoothed back his steel hair. "Focus on the impending doom, please. I'll remove Lady Rohan so you can stop fretting about her, for a moment."
The prince grabbed my arm and steered me out into the hall. Liam slipped out behind us and let the meeting room's door fall closed.
Before I could speak, a shadow detached itself from the corner and fell into step on my other side.
"Are they trying to kill her?" It asked.
"Saints, Ferris," Laiserian cursed. "Announce yourself first."
I breathed out when I took in the kid's features. He looked just like his father and brother, albeit with far longer, curlier hair. Freckles pooled in his dimples when he grinned at his brother.
"Sorry," he said, insincerely. "Do you have a plan?"
"Yes." Laiserian turned his gaze onto me. "Even if Father convinces the other lords you deserve a chance, the world at large will not accept this.Forlaithwill not accept this."
He stopped in a dark parlor room, lit only by a single candle. Snow fell gently outside, from calm, black skies. No echo remained of the storm that had raged mere hours ago.
Ferris perched on an armrest and fussed with a wound on his neck. A shallow cut—had he clashed with the assassins?
More likely, he'd gotten hurt in a bar fight.
"Forlaith will never anoint a woman," Ferris said. "I can't say what theywoulddo, though."
"I can." Laiserian dropped my arm and stood before the dark mantle, hands clasped behind his back. "They would assassinate you and paint it as an unfortunate tragedy."
Liam snorted. He leaned on the doorframe, keeping a distance from the princes. "Would they really be that obvious about it?"
"Yes." Ferris folded his arms. "Hell, they'd toss her from the walls into a bustling crowd to send a warning."
I stood there, silent and blank. News that everyone in the Empire would seek my head should've shaken me.
But after the death I'd witnessed in Galasvar . . .
Maybe the shock had yet to wear off.
Summoning false courage, I smiled. "Paragons are supposed to be the best, right? I suppose I'll just have to learn how to thwart these assassins."
"Skill with a blade won't save you from poison slipped in your drink," Laiserian warned. "And you have no formal training. You'll be an easy target." He glanced around and lowered his voice. "If we wish to keep you safe, you'll need a guardian. Someone who can do more than merely fight off foes who come at you with knives."
"You mean someone with influence?" I guessed. "Someone to deter them from trying?"
Liam spoke the thought I'd kept to myself. "Who would be willing to do that? Anyone with influence in Forlaith will be, well . . . a Solheart noble."
"Onewill protect you," Laiserian said. "Paragon Tiernan will."
Ferris sat up. "Reese?"
I knew that name. Everyone did. Paragon Tiernan was from Lavaire, a Fireborn and the wielder of the holy rapier. Rumors said he'd never lost a fight—that he was inhuman in battle.
"What gives him such authority?" I asked.
"Because the seat of the Emperor remains empty," Laiserian said. "Because with only a widow who's yet to be re-wed, the most powerful man in the empire is the Paragons’ leader."
Laiserian painted a compelling picture. But it was hard to imagine any man with such status vouching for a woman.
