Aerax did not laugh as expected. Instead he frowned. “She glowed while talking to you?”
Lizzan nodded hugely. “So very bright.”
“Were her hands as ice?”
A shudder ripped through her. “Not as ice.” Ice was sharp, like knives. “They were as snow.”
Still his troubled gaze did not leave hers. “What did you ask for?”
“To lift all shame from my family.”
His expression softened. “Of course it would be that. What must you do—and how might I help you?”
Everything within her stilled. Aerax would not help her. Not if he learned how she meant to fulfill her quest. Instead he would fight every step she took on this path.
Yet this path was all that Lizzan had left.
So she gave him a half-truth. “I was to protect the first person I saw outside this temple. And I do not think she meant Caeb—so it must be the girl who was walking ahead of you.”
“Seri?”
He turned, and Lizzan saw the young warrior standing outside the open temple doors, peering in curiously at them. Nodding, Lizzan said, “You are traveling with the Parsatheans?”
“Until we secure an alliance with the High Daughter of Krimathe.” Frustration tightened his expression. “I always forget my purpose when I am with you. Securing that alliance is why I sought you out.”
Of course it was. Not to be with her. Not for a kiss.
Careful not to stumble, she stiffly pulled away from him. “Why am I needed for that?”
“The High Daughter refuses to send her warriors north without first hearing the truth of what occurred on the King’s Walk.”
Lizzan laughed, hard and sharp. “And what is the point of my telling her? Who are the councilors with you? They will only say that I lie again.”
“Lizzan.” With his intense gaze locked to hers, he said, “Your name has been struck from the books. They must pretend that they do not hear you at all—and so nothing can they say in response to you.”
Oh. Well.
That sounded very fine, indeed.
The priestess returned, shaking out a cloak that billowed dust from its threadbare length—and the cloth was so faded, it seemed more like the pink of a rash than the red of a quest. “This was the best that I could find.”
Lizzan cared not at all. Gratefully she took the battered cloak, then staggered as she swung the thin cloth around her shoulders. Again Aerax steadied her, frowning, then looked to the priestess when that woman spoke again.
“Feral princeling,” she said, “our goddess has a message for you, as well.”
Eyes narrowing, he seemed to brace himself. “What is it?”
“That you must become who you truly are.”
Lizzan snorted out a laugh and flapped her fingers. “Like a slimy worm into a beautiful butterfly.”
Aerax’s lips twitched before he frowned down at her again. “I will tell the High Daughter that you’ll speak with her in the morning,” he said. “You are full drunk.”
Laughing, she shook her head. So little he knew her now. “I am not near full drunk.” And she had very much to say. “All will be fine.”
She patted his chest reassuringly, and then pushed him out of her way.
CHAPTER 12
LIZZAN
By the time Lizzan made her way to the inn, her purse was full again—or would be, when the Parsathean girl paid her for all but one of the bandits’ horses.
And she felt so very fine. Like a blade sharpened to a thin, brittle edge.
Perhaps Caeb sensed it. The snow cat walked at Lizzan’s side as she climbed the stairs, his presence large and comforting. Or perhaps Aerax feared she would stagger drunkenly onto her face, and told the cat to remain close, so that she might hold on to his ruff for balance.
Or perhaps it was for her protection. Barely had she stepped into the room when a furious cry rang out and a Kothan soldier lunged at her, his chair clattering as it fell.
And truly, perhaps she’d drunk a little bit much, because her body was sluggish to react. Her understanding moved slowly, too. When she saw that it was Uland of Fairwind, a soldier she knew well from her early years within the Kothan army, Lizzan’s first thought was not to defend herself but to look behind her for an enemy that they would fight together.
Yet Aerax must have expected what she had not. His hand shot out. A meaty thwack sounded as he blocked the man’s swinging fist with his palm, and then he snatched Uland’s mail tunic and dragged him close.
“Take care, Captain,” he snarled into Uland’s face, and Lizzan tightened