“I know, I know, you’re my Shield, and a damn fine one, but that doesn’t mean you have to die with me.”
“I won’t leave you.”
Persephone sighed. “You’re being stupid. You all are.”
Moya nodded. “Maybe, but if that’s the case, there are a lot of dumb people in Alon Rhist right now because no one’s leaving. I saw them on the way here. They’re rebuilding the walls a stone at a time. Bakers, weavers, and former farmers are out there, stacking stones. I asked Bergin why he was bothering. I expected him to say it was to hide behind or something. But you know what he said?” She paused to swallow, an act that took effort. “He said, ‘To protect the keenig.’ I told him that was my job. He said, ‘No—that’s everyone’s job.’?”
“That’s wrong. It’s the keenig’s job to protect all of you,” Persephone said.
“Most of the time, maybe, but not today.”
Moya picked up a bundle she’d laid near the door and placed it on the bed. Unfolding it, she revealed two long daggers of shiny metal. “Compliments of Roan.” She handed one to Brin and one to Persephone.
“Are these to use on the enemy or ourselves?” Persephone asked.
“I suppose that’s for you to decide.” Moya started for the door. “Need to check things. You do, too, don’t you, Tekchin?”
The Fhrey looked puzzled for a moment. “Check on…Oh, sure.” He grinned. “Be back in a minute,” he told the rest of them. “I have to check on things.”
Moya waved to Persephone. “Might take him longer than that. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”
“Going down to the courtyard?” Brin asked.
“Ah—passing through it. Why?”
“Thought I’d walk with you.”
“Brin, we—” Moya stopped. “You want to see Tesh, don’t you?”
Brin blushed. “Maybe.”
“Those who are sticking around,” Nyphron said, “let’s get back to reinforcing the doors. Those bridges will be completed sooner than we want.”
“That means he’s going to point at things he wants me to move.” Grygor winked at Persephone as he and the others filed out.
“Nyphron?” Persephone stopped him.
The Fhrey lord lingered at the door, looking back as the others moved past.
He stood straight, that bold chin held high, the lamplight gleaming on him. Dashing, that really was the word for him. His blond hair was thrown back over his shoulders, his bronze armor polished to a dazzling shine, emphasizing his shoulders and chest. Yes, dashing.
“I’ve been thinking about what Arion said.” Persephone struggled once more to sit up straighter. She always felt so small when talking to Nyphron. “About sending a bird to the fane and telling them about Suri.”
“Can’t do that.”
“Why can’t—oh…” She paused, concerned. “Was the pigeon loft destroyed?” So much had been lost in that last assault.
“No, Alon Rhist still has its full complement of those, but we’ve gone over this. You saw what the Miralyith did to Arion. Suri probably survived because they didn’t know about her. Besides, I don’t think you know how bird couriers work. They are trained to fly home. Home in this case is a coop in the palace in Estramnadon. The army is across the chasm. By all accounts, so is the fane. A message sent by bird won’t reach him.”
“But Arion was so adamant about it. So certain it could help save both our peoples.”
“I hate speaking ill of the dead, but Arion was Miralyith. I’ve never trusted them. Now if there is nothing else, this is my fortress—what’s left of it. I should see about securing it the best I can. Don’t want to disappoint the fane. He’ll be expecting a valiant last stand from the Instarya.”
“Can I ask you a question before you go?”
“You’re the keenig,” the Fhrey lord said with a smile. “Your wish is my command.”
She smirked. “I’ve been thinking about your proposal.”
Nyphron chuckled. “Little point in that now.”
“I actually think that now is the perfect time to think about it. There’s no pressure anymore.”
This appeared to puzzle him, then he shrugged it off and asked, “What did you want to know?”
“I was wondering—well, if let’s say the fane and his army just vanished with the rising sun—do you think you could ever love me?”
“Love you?” The words mystified him. “I’m not even certain what love is. That Rhune word doesn’t translate well, you know. And as far as my understanding takes me, it isn’t all that clearly defined in the Rhunic culture, either. So, let me ask, do you?”
“Do I what? Do I know what love is, or do I think I could love you?”
“Take your pick.”
“I think it’s possible to love anyone.”
“Well, there’s your answer then.”
“That’s my answer. I want to know yours.”
Nyphron stared at her and licked his lips. “You want an honest answer, don’t you?”