Paragon Tiernan looked down at me. "Killian asked me to join him on the southern border. I didn't expect . . . " He trailed off. "No one here approves of what your king asked of me. Word will have reached Forlaith by now—and they will be livid."
"Are they . . . allowed to kill Paragons?"
"You're not a Paragon." His eyes hardened. "Not until you've taken the oath, sworn by a monarch. Your king won't dare—not until he has Forlaith’s approval."
Forlaith was the seat of the Solhearts’ empire. King Ailithir would be powerless before them. Our nation was the mostprogressive in the empire, and even our lords had balked at the notion of a woman wearing the Paragon title.
I was royally fucked.
The distress must have shone clearly on my face. Paragon Tiernan stopped and placed a hand on my shoulder. "I'm here to protect you. No one will lay a finger on you while I'm around."
Heat radiated from his touch like a furnace. I paused and took in his features.
A black cloak rested around his shoulders, and a matching collar brushed his cheeks. Red hair fell in waves to either side. He waspartFireborn, then.
No matter who they lay with, Solhearts always produced pure-blooded children like them. But there were signs, when one of the parents had been lesser—like the red hair of a Fireborn.
A handsome white surcoat fitted around his armor; its radiance ended in stark black boots and gloves.
Forlaith inquisitors wore colors like that. Secretive men who stalked the shadows, searching for heretics. Traitors. For those who worshipped the shadows.
For people like me, who should not have survived Galasvar.
I ground my teeth together, refusing to let fear overtake my features.
Paragon Tiernan retracted his hand, shattering my thoughts. Ice seeped into my bones where his touch had been.
"I wish we had more time to talk, but . . . " He took a step away, and an odd light entered his eyes. "You know . . . You can refuse it. The sword. Me."
My head snapped up. "And let them kill me?"
"The Paragon's life is not easy. I don't want you to think you have no choice."
"Speaking of choices." I studied his face. "Why did you accept the king's request?"
"Paragon weapons do not make mistakes."
Cierthine pulsed under my grip. I watched the dancing violet light streaming up and down the black blade.
Truth be told, I wanted to fall to my knees and beg him to protect me.
All my life, people had looked at me with two opposing lights.
Humor. Laughter at the city-less princess who held her head high.
Pity. For the girl who'd lost her people before she could even speak.
I'd lifted my chin and walked forward, though I didn't know where I was going. Even though nothing brought me closer to my goal. To find them.
To see my mother. To receive an answer beyond screaming at the stars and begging them to tell me why my world was gone and everyone had simply forgotten.
Following Paragon Tiernan didn't mean cowering behind his cloak—it meant learning to be a Paragon.
And pretending to be someone I was not.
So I smiled insincerely. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't have a choice. Either I train under you, or I die." I tilted my head. "So I hope you're a half-decent teacher."
"I hope you're a half-decent leader," he echoed playfully. "To keep me in line. I'll stray toward protecting you, not training you."
