A Prince Among Killers - By J. B. Redmond Page 0,111
life.
Lord Ross folded hands that could probably sculpt rock without the benefit of tools, and gazed into the fire behind Nic. “Your safety will be my personal mission, I give you my oath. The Sabor have pledged their service to you as well, at my request. They will guard you as they guard the Ross bloodline, until you or I release them from that pact. That will strengthen your position, when the time comes to assert it.”
Nic held on to the sides of his seat, forming argument after argument about his fitness to lead, but he spoke none of them aloud. He couldn’t debate with this man as he had debated with Snakekiller, and even with Dari. In Lord Ross’s presence, gazing into that stony, certain face, it seemed a fate accomplished, Nic’s assumption of his dynast title, and his role as heir to Eyrie’s throne.
The strangest part was, with a man like Lord Ross supporting him, Nic almost felt like he could face the task.
“Your acceptance of me and your offer is most honorable,” he said, averting his gaze from Lord Ross’s uncomfortable scrutiny. “And it’s very kind. If my father were alive, he would give you his thanks, and his allegiance until his death.”
Lord Ross’s nod was regal, and his eyes were touched by sadness for Nic’s many losses.
“I don’t know that the rest of Eyrie will receive me so openly,” Nic said, at last bringing a measure of his fear into the open.
Lord Ross allowed that with another graceful nod. “You’ll have to convince the doubters. You’ll find your moment to show your fortitude, Nic. All leaders do. It’s a burden we all share—our trial, if you will.”
We...
As much as he would like to, Nic couldn’t see himself as similar to Lord Ross in any way. He was preparing to ask how he would know the right moment had arrived when Lord Ross cleared his throat.
Nic startled.
Lord Ross’s masked expression slipped into something less formal, but no less fearsome. “Even in the very short time I have been here, it doesn’t escape my attention that my granddaughter is fond of you, young man.”
Nic almost startled again, then caught hold of himself. “Dari’s my friend, and I hope that I’m hers, if that’s what you mean.”
Lord Ross raised his eyebrows. “Is that your intention, then? To be Dari’s friend?”
His steady gaze pinned Nic to the chair as sharply as a well-fired arrow.
Nic’s anxiety drove him to speak before he had a chance to consider his words, even for his own benefit. “No, sir. I’d like to marry Dari.”
Nic closed his mouth so quickly that the pop of his teeth slamming together sounded like a powder blast in the quiet chambers.
Had he said that?
Brother help him.
Did he mean it?
But… he knew he did.
Thoughts of a future with Dari had been in his mind since he first opened his eyes and found her beside him in the infirmary, but he had considered them nothing but fancy. The dreams of a foolish boy, desperate for any relief from his lot in life.
But here was Dari’s grandfather, speaking to him as if winning Dari’s heart might be a possibility. If Lord Ross didn’t draw a sword and run him through for being so forward.
Lord Ross didn’t seem inclined to go for his weapons. He remained quiet for a few moments, then said, “I honor Stormbreaker and Aron, but your temperament is a much better match for Dari. I think your strength would calm her and steady her. And she told me last night—you make her laugh.”
“Strength,” Nic echoed, stuck on that point, and not certain he was hearing Lord Ross correctly. Still, he didn’t dare contradict him.
“We could discuss the benefits of such an alliance, but my position and my dynast are secure, and yours will be, once you come forward and make known the breadth of your mind-talents.” Lord Ross waved a hand, clearly dismissing these as petty concerns. “Dari’s Stregan relatives will pose no objections, provided she doesn’t force them into revealing themselves or where they reside. The union wouldn’t be an illegal cross-mixing like that of her parents, either. Since she is a child of both bloodlines, she is allowed to choose whether to join with a Stregan or a Fae.”
“I—I see.” Nic felt like an idiot, but he was having difficulty trusting Lord Ross’s assessment of his position in Eyrie, and imagining that Dari would ever agree to the union Lord Ross was envisioning.