"Saint's breath." King Ailithir shoved past them. "Muirin!" He shouted, eyeing a noble lady draped in plum furs. "Take your drunken husband to the convoy before I let the Paragon kill him."
Muirin darted out of the crowd, head down. Paragon Tiernan reluctantly pulled his sword from Fitheal's throat. Grabbing the lord's collar, he shoved Fitheal into his wife's arms.
I caught Fitheal's parting snarl as his wife led him away.
"Clear out," King Ailithir shouted, gesturing back toward the convoy. "This is not a theatre." He leaned down beside me and helped me to my feet. "Are you alright, dear?"
"Yes. I think so," I said, voice hoarse. "You're leaving?"
"We must return home and see to our own borders." His pale-green eyes dimmed. "For all we know, we've already been attacked." He gripped my shoulders. "You are all that remains of our sister city. You must stay with Paragon Tiernan. Do not leave his side. If one of mine will attack you so openly, the rest of the world will not hesitate to strike."
"Yes, your majesty," I croaked.
"Good." Releasing me, he stepped back. "May the saints—" He cut off, and changed prayers—from our ancestral deities to Forlaith's sun god. "May Solathair be with you."
"And you," I breathed.
The king returned to his carriage. I glanced at Paragon Tiernan. Perhaps I, too, should be careful what I said around a Solheart. Worship of the saints had been forbidden, but their names lingered in our dialect.
Laiserian remained by my side. "I am so sorry. That never should have happened on my watch."
"You were busy," I said, rubbing my throat. "Tending to the angry mob."
A slight smile touched his lips. "I'm sorry to leave on such short notice. Everything has been . . . frankly, a mess."
"I know." I looked down. "And most of it is my fault."
"No." Laiserian shook his head. He reached out and brushed a lock of white hair from my face. "The Paragon weapons do not make mistakes. Not in a thousand years has anyone dishonored the title."
"Well, when you put it likethat. . . " I tried to cheer myself up, to no avail.
"You need only survive until you can prove yourself. Once you're anointed, they can't touch you."
"You make it sound easy." I strained to smile, and failed. "Did you ever see my mother fight?"
Laiserian lowered his hand. "Only once, as a child. She challenged your father to a duel—and won handily, as I recall." He glanced at his father. "Aenir is the only country that remembers women who stood alongside men. You will find no allies outside our borders."
Sorrow blossomed in my chest, like dark, cold thorns. I'd pursued the prince for the power, the status—a means to find home.
But the more I spoke with Laiserian, the more I realized he was a good man. I would have enjoyed courting him.
The chance had died in Galasvar, with everyone else.
"Be careful, Mare," Laiserian said. His eyes flicked over me before he returned to his father's side.
Paragon Tiernan stepped forward. I tore my gaze from the prince to look at him.
"Bastard," he spat. "He must have been following us."
I steadied my pounding heart and swallowed my fear. A Paragon would not be daunted in the face of death or assault. I could not give Tiernan the impression I was weak.
"You must be shaken up. Shall I escort you to your quarters, Lady Rohan?" He asked.
Hearing the words from a Paragon—a Solheart, no less—knocked the words from my mouth.
"Too formal?" He arched an eyebrow. "Until we start training, I'm just your bodyguard."
"I've never had one of those before." I lifted my head, acting like a proper noblewoman. "Can you double as a manservant?"
