One with no military training, at that.
"And," Laiserian continued. "There's an old tradition in the Paragon order. Should a weapon choose an inexperienced fighter, an established Paragon will take them on as an apprentice."
"And you trust Paragon Tiernan?" I asked.
"Yes," Laiserian said.
Nodding, I backed up. Suddenly, the floor felt dangerously unstable and on the verge of rising up to meet me.
"Let me just . . . " I ran a hand across my brow. “Think about this for a moment."
If anyone called out to me, I didn't hear them. Rubbing my temples, I walked back into the dark, quiet hall.
Training under a Paragon, to become one . . . Throwing myself into battles for the rest of my days, always under scrutiny for being a woman in a position she did not deserve.
Maybe the assassins wouldneverstop trying to take my head.
The faint thrum I'd felt, the lure of glory and respect, faded into the taste of ash. I wasn't a warrior. Mere days ago, I'd been on the brink of donning a noble's crown.
Thatwas the life I wanted. After twenty-five years of staring into the distance, wondering who I was supposed to be and why it'd been stripped of me, I'd finally gotten somewhere.
But that was gone now, too. Either I took the sword, or I died.
Raising my head, I stared down the hall at the sealed door, listening to the murmur of arguing voices.
I'd lied to them about what happened at Galasvar. 'Killian lost his life escorting us to safety.' No mention of the monsters’ odd behavior had crossed my lips. Should anyone learn the truth . . .
I sincerely doubted even Laiserian would want to keep me alive.
No one had ever rejected a Paragon weapon's call. But neither had they ever chosen a woman. Maybe I could be the first at both.
Let someone capable take Cierthine. We needed a warrior right now. And I could return to the shadows and take my dark secret with me.
Gathering my resolve, I marched back to the meeting room and threw open the door.
The lords ceased their shouting and turned toward me. Lifting my chin, I swept my gaze over the group. "You're right. A woman shouldn't wield Cierthine. I've come to renounce it."
The king opened his mouth to protest, but Fitheal interrupted. "Good. That should have been the first thing we tried."
Setting my jaw, I approached the black blade lying across the table and grasped its handle. The dull blade lit up withan array of violet light, thrumming with electric power. Its hilt illuminated as the amethyst jewel at its center flared to life.
"I'm not meant for this," I whispered, wondering if the blade was listening. "You chose wrong. Leave me behind. Choose another—someone who can protect Aenir."
The blade hummed with greater intensity, and the hilt shook in my grip. Then, it fell silent and still. Dull.
I felt something, like a great whoosh of air had left my lungs. Releasing the handle, I stepped back.
"Did it work?" Fitheal asked.
"I don't know," King Ailithir said. "No one has ever rejected the calling before. But, it certainly seemed like it worked."
"Good," I said. Nodding, I spun on my heel, eager to escape the sea of eyes.
It wasn't relief that lit my breast. Dragging weight pulled on my heart, and blood pounded in my ears.
Everything had happened so fast. Before I'd truly realized what had been thrust upon me, I'd given it up. There had been a glimmer of a chance to become something special, to live a life beyond the halls of my father's abode.
To do something that might've made my mother proud.
