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“Father, she took down Huw.” Kelyn was animated in his discussion. He waved his hands or leaned over the table. Sometimes he straightened and paced a few steps.
His movements also prevented him from noticing Kenrik’s unspoken conversation with me.
“You’re asking a woman to take charge.” Sieffre didn’t carry disbelief over my abilities, rather he didn’t want the responsibility over my welfare should my life be placed in damnable circumstances.
But King Sieffre hadn’t witnessed my sparring. He didn’t know what I was capable of. None of them really did. They hadn’t seen my light in battle.
“Not a woman, albeit she is, but an emrys,” Kelyn said. “Her powers are beyond our comprehension. She can whip a special unit into shape.” He paused to regard me. “Of that I have no doubt.”
“I’ll not send her into combat,” Sieffre said. I sensed his protective, fatherly sentiments for me.
I followed the conversation back and forth, sitting superbly straight in my chair, considering. I should have been livid they were discussing me and my abilities as if I weren’t present, but I was intrigued. I never had an opportunity to prove myself in such a way in Gorlassar, not when lives were actually at stake. I’d never been given command. The idea filled me with pride. These mortals had such faith in me—a godlike being. They were desperate to grab hold of any hope when a situation overwhelmed their finite capabilities.
As I thought about it, I estimated I could probably search out the offenders with my light and infiltrate the hideout on my own accord, but my merit as a leader wouldn’t be proved.
You don’t have anything to prove, Seren said.
I want to prove this to myself.
I was afraid you were going to say that. You can find purpose in other avenues.
I live for the fight, Seren. You know this.
I do.
What’s your hesitation? Our adventure has been profitable so far. My agitation is somewhat pacified, I said.
Somewhat. These princes are trouble.
Luckily I’m not interested in them.
At least I didn’t think I was.
Mortals. They’re mortals, Seren ticked in my head, who die.
“Father, she’s sitting right here,” Kelyn said. “She’s a grown woman who can speak for herself. She admitted she’s a warrior. We don’t know what kind of action she’s seen. We do know blood does not make her squeamish.”
“She’s a mere pixie.” Sieffre mumbled in my direction, referencing my fair appearance. “Forgive me.”
“You haven’t felt her muscles, Father.”
“I most certainly have not, and I hope you haven’t either.”
Kenrik snickered. He knew how strong I was after fighting with me over a dozen times.
My body tensed, feeling as though Kelyn’s nimble arms were around me again. My core, my arms, and my legs were well developed. Kelyn had felt only my waist, but he knew my strength rivaled the mortals’. I was imbued with light, and my body was sculpted as a result. Nobody could miss that.
Kenrik caught my eye, and he mouthed, “What do you say, warrior?”
I raised my eyebrows at him. I liked his secret smiles and communication among a roomful of men. He was the only one who, I believed, really understood me. “They won’t know what hit them.” I mouthed in return.
Kenrik leaned back in his chair and nodded, delighted in our little exchange.
I stood abruptly, cutting off Kelyn. “I’ll do it.”
So we’d returned from council with a plan in place. I was to enrich the men’s training because my techniques from Gorlassar in the art of hand fighting were new to the mortals. I was to lead them to the haunt but stay outside, per Sieffre’s orders.
I glanced at Kenrik as the men awaited the first of my instructions for a grueling two-week training session. “Prince Kenrik shall be my first volunteer.”
