"Good." I lessened my press of the knife, "Though I'm still tempted to kill you."
"And here I thought we were just starting to get along."
Something sharp brushed my side. A dagger. Quinn held it loosely at his side, a lazy smile stretched across his lips.
"Aren't we quite the pair?" He said. "Why don't you step back first?"
Scowling, I retreated, leaving my knife at his throat as long as possible. He didn't strike, though. Once my blade was gone, he lowered his, too.
"Now that we have an accord . . . " He grabbed the cord binding my wrists and raked his knife through it. The rope dissipated into tiny motes of light. "Here's some dignity back."
Exhaling, I rubbed my wrists.
If I were a smart woman, I'd turn and run.
But I followed straight lines when one presented itself, and Quinn had given me a route to my goal.
"Shall we?" Quinn offered me his arm, and I pointedly ignored it. Shrugging, he kept walking.
I jogged to keep up with his long stride. "Who will Siotha pick?"
"Who knows?" Quinn shrugged. "Probably a Shatterblade. Most men in the history books served a few years in Tsuyan."
We left the alley behind and stopped in a broad street. He gazed up into the swirling snow.
"Solathair willing," Quinn breathed. "It'll hold its judgment for a little bit longer."
"Why?" I asked. "Do you not like Shatterblades?"
Quinn kept walking, refusing to answer.
Taking a deep breath, I repressed the urge to throttle him. Soon enough, he'd be out of my hair.
Our house guard stood at attention when a Solheart approached with the lord's daughter. Planting their spears into the ground, they knelt, inviting Quinn to enter.
The world seemed to freeze when I took my first step through the gates, onto the stone path leading to the white manor.
I should turn and run.
This would be my last chance to escape. To be free.
I didn't. For the first time in five years, my father might actually listen to me.
A butler rushed to the door and pulled it open for Quinn. The Solheart paused on the threshold, beckoning me to go first.
Blinking, I rubbed the snow and ice from my eyes. Two stairwells swept up and around the foyer, meeting at a central balcony overlooking the room.
Father stood up there, dressed in his Shatterblade armor, dark hair tied away from his face. His hands tightened around the railing when he saw us.
"My apologies, General Yuudai." Quinn dipped his head. "For the sudden intrusion."
Father's back straightened, and he hurried down the stairs to stand before us. He hardly glanced at me before falling to his knees before the Solheart.
"No need for apologies, lord . . .?"
"Seradh. Glenn Seradh," Quinn said.
I looked up sharply at him. He ignored my gaze.
