“You’ll get your knighthood,” Endre whispered.“You’ve more than earned it.”
Bastion shook his head absently.He should feel guilty for withholding information,yet again, but he didn’t, and it perplexed him.“Have I?”
An imperious voice prevented Endre from answering.
“Bastion, a word!”
They both turned as Lyanthis approached.His eyes raked over them, arrogant even with royalty.He arched an eyebrow and inclined his head.
“I need your Account.”
Bastion looked down at it, still clutched in his hand.He smoothed the warped cover, then extended his hand.Lyanthis’s nose wrinkled in disgust as he took it.It bloomed in his hand, no longer a neat, flat little thing.
“What did you do to it!”
“Saved your daughter,” Bastion said.A sneer cut across Lyanthis’s face, and Bastion awaited the inevitable cutting remark.
But the headmaster simply stared at the Account.When he met Bastion’s eyes, he said the last thing Bastion expected.“You deserve your knighthood.”
Bastion’s brow quirked.He glanced at Endre, who appeared equally shocked.
“By all accounts, you have acted as a knight should, and Etruria would be lucky to count you among her protectors.”
Incredulous, Bastion replied, “Thank you.”
“However,” Lyanthis continued, “while you may be good enough for Etruria, you willneverbe good enough for my daughter.”
The declaration should have bled him like a knife to the throat.In the past, Bastion would have internalized it as a reflection of his character and his honor.Now, he pressed his lips together and nodded slowly.
“That’s for her to decide,” he said.
Lyanthis’s eyes narrowed.Disapproval dripped off him, but Bastion didn’t care.The only opinion that mattered was Ulla’s.
Finally, the Yvri turned and walked away.
Endre smacked his shoulder.“See!EvenLyanthisthinks you should be a knight!”
Bastion shook his head.Not in disagreement, but in the way of an exhausted parent.
“You’re forgetting I don’t have a Godmark,” Bastion said.
“A Godmark does not make a knight,” Endre replied, his tone low and confident.“In the last few weeks, you’ve already done more than most of the knights in those Accounts!The title will be yours, and you can commission your new sword.Today, if you want!”
Reflexively, Bastion’s hand went to the pommel of his blade.He glanced down at it, rubbing his thumb over a familiar groove.His unremarkable, standard-issue royal guard sword had served him well over the years.
He hadn’t been prepared for what seeing it in Buck’s hands would make him feel.How the pirate had used it to harm when Bastion only wanted to help.Now, with it back at his side, it felt like an amputated limb had been restored.The thought of another sword seemed like sacrilege.
Bastion sighed.
Suddenly, waiting for the council’s verdict seemed absurd.That sleeping part of him, the one that woke in the belly ofThe Basilisk, and again when he fought Buck at the hot springs, stirred.He couldn’t access it fully, but he knew with all his soul that it had something to do with the purpose that had driven him his entire life.Something much greater than atitle.
He gripped the hilt of his sword and whispered,“I’m already a knight.”
“What?”Endre asked.
Bastion stood abruptly.“I have to go.”
The prince grabbed his wrist.“Gowhere?They haven’t finished deliberating!”
