The Hicaron family and Kandum troops marched further East, in the direction of the next Pescelean camp. It was supposed to be only somewhat larger than the one they took over during their Autumn ambush. They wanted to work their way up toward the larger encampments, building their strength as they continued. The Duke of Rodovan was also hoping that the cold would weaken the Pescelean soldiers. If he had been receptive to listening to their prisoner, Cefa, that hope would have died quickly.
"The magical barriers do more than protect against harm," Cefa explained to Rhin, Daijah, and Eya as they rode together. "It provides heat. Think back to how it vibrated when you tried to ram it, Daijah. Its constant buzzing caused the air inside to be almost sweltering. There were days I wore nothing in the Summer."
"You mean, you were down to just your underclothes?" Rhin asked.
Daijah and Eya shook their heads at him.
"You don't know me as well as these two yet," Cefa said, cackling when Rhin looked uncomfortable. "Young people are too easy to rile up."
For most of the day's journey, Eya enjoyed the transitioning landscape. The scenery changed from the dramatic angles familiar to the mountains of Kandum to the jutting, rocky cliffs and mountain tops of Hicares, swimming around in the low rolling fog. The bleating of goats, now running wild since their herders abandoned their lives on the farm to take up the sword for Hicares, echoed around them. Instead of riding on fallen pine needles and grass, their horse hooves stepped on the vibrant green of the soft moss that covered most of Hicares. The misty air smelled like moss and peat, bringing a sense of familiarity and comfort Eya hadn't felt for a long time.
She was reveling in the joy of that when they turned a corner around a large crag and saw the village ahead. At least, it used to be a village. Now, it was blackened wood and fallen rock. Whatever attack fell on this village had happened so long ago that the moss grew over most of the ruins now. The road to their next objective led right through it.
With reverence, they made slow and deliberate steps, absorbing the tragedy of it all. They saw little charred clues of what kind of town this had been and what kind of people lived there. There were horseshoes and buckets by what must have been stables at one point. Hundreds of broken plates laid scattered around the rubble of a large outdoor oven, surrounded by scorched structures that Eya believed to be tables for communal dinners. A mostly blackened porcelain doll sat almost propped against a tree. One blue eye on its incomplete head stared as the party traveled past it.
A slip of paper kicked up by a breeze flew into Eya's face. She grabbed it in shock, stopping the momentum of her horse. Despite large, burnt portions, she could still read some of it. It was a song.
"When Pescel knaves threaten you with graves," she read aloud, the troops around her stopping to listen. "Remember Little Eya's silver eyes. When danger cries and Farek lies, remember…"
"Little Eya's silver eyes!" several soldiers sang out.
Eya looked up from the paper, astonished by both the sudden music ringing in this lifeless place and the fact that these Kandumes knew the tune.
"Her dark curled hair and ivory skin, dewy with her tears," the Duke sang, "will remember your fight through the fearsome night, throughout her royal years. So, when the swords clash and the arrows flash, remember Little Eya's eyes."
Eya sat there, stunned. She remembered the Captain of the ship she took to escape Hicares talking about songs describing her, but she hadn't believed him. She also never imagined that people sang about her as some sort of motivational hymn, encouraging young men to march towards their slaughter. Had this been why the Duke referred to her as Little Eya?
"I need to stop for a moment," she whispered to Daijah, who nodded his head.
He got down from his horse and helped her off hers.
"I am going to escort the princess to a place to get a little rest before we continue our ride," Daijah explained to his father and then turned toward Rhin. "Can you wait up the road a pace with our horses? Everyone else can move on ahead. We will catch up with them."
Rhin nodded somberly.
Daijah walked with Eya past the village ruins and to a beautiful field of vibrant spring blooms roaring with life. Eya crumpled down to the ground, keeping her back to the agony behind her to face the beauty of nature's annual rebirth. A silent tear rolled down her left cheek, stinging a bit at the still healing scars. A light rain fell on them as Daijah sat next to her.
"I'm sorry if we get wet," Eya said, wiping the tear off her face. "I'm trying to keep it from getting worse."
"I know," Daijah whispered, tenderly tucking a black curl behind her ear. "I wouldn't mind if you drenched me right now. I just look even more dashing when the fabric on my tunic clings to all these magnificent muscles."
Eya giggled at Daijah's flashy display of muscle-flexing, but soon sobbed anyway. He held her close to his side, letting her cry onto his shoulder. After she grew silent for a moment, Eya lifted her head and breathed a deep sigh.
"How long have you known about that song?" she asked. "How in Pecu's name did it make it all the way to Kandum? You weren't even involved in that war."
"Well…" Daijah said, scratching the back of his head. "It made the rounds with sailors and travelers, mostly from Hicarean soldiers fleeing the battle."
"That makes sense," she replied. "I hate that I'm the reason anyone had to die."
"You didn't even know about that song," Daijah consoled. "You're just another pawn in all of this, like the rest of us."
"Do you feel like a pawn, Daijah?" Eya asked, shifting to look at him.
"I was the second son," he said. "I was supposed to study medicine, marry you, and live out the rest of my life healing the sick. Then my brother died, and suddenly I was the future Duke of Rodovan, tasked with becoming a high ranking soldier, abandoning any ideas of the kind of life I had planned for myself. My life doesn't belong to me anymore."
"I know that feeling," Eya whispered, squeezing his hand. "I am grateful for any time we have together in all of this, even if...if…"
"If what?" Daijah asked, leaning closer to her, their faces only a few inches apart now.
"Even if we can't ever be together truly," she answered, lifting her eyes from his mouth to his eyes. "I would give anything to have the kind of future you planned."
Daijah stroked her lips with his thumb, and then kissed her. His arms wrapped her small body so closely against his broad one that there was no telling which limb belonged to whom. Warmth spread throughout Eya's body, her longing for him stoking a passionate fire within her. The rain ceased, replaced with a warm breeze that cloaked them.
"I swear, Eya," Daijah breathed into her hair before kissing across her shoulder and collar bone. "I will end this war. I will make you my bride. I will have you in my bed for a thousand days and nights before I ever do another thing in my life."
Eya gently pushed him to the ground and straddled his hips, resting on top of him. She peppered his forehead with kisses, wrapping his long, black hair around her delicate fingers, before pushing his tunic up to reveal his hard-earned muscles covered in a network of tattoos that told his stories. He was the most breathtakingly beautiful man Eya had ever seen.
Daijah growled a moan, biting his lip, but grabbed her hips to lift her off. "Eya, stop," he said, wishing he didn't have to.
"Daijah, please…" she whined. "I need you."
"Eya, your life would be at risk if you were to get pregnant now,” he said, shifting his weight as he sat up.
Eya nodded her bent head. She thought of the doll in the village. It belonged to a child once, a child caught in the middle of a war, a child that no longer lived. They would make sure their family didn’t have to face such horror.
Standing up, she looked again at the flowers, now swaying in the warm breeze. The blossoms didn't care about wars. They just grew and reproduced and lived their lives as decorations. That was going to be her life once, and she never truly wanted it. She wanted more. Now, circumstances forced her to fight. Her life was all or nothing, in a world where you were either predator or prey.
"We win back Hicares, and then we get married," she said, turning around to face Daijah, who was standing now as well. "Is that the plan?"
"Yes," he said.
"What about your father?" she asked.
"I don't care what he has to say on the matter," Daijah answered. "I stopped caring the moment I saw you bound and gagged in that shed. I would rather die than live without you."
Eya stepped close to him and gave him one last loving kiss. Holding his hand, they walked up the road where they found Rhin and Cefa waiting for them, holding on to the reins of Eya and Daijah's horses. Daijah helped Eya onto her horse and then got onto his own.
"Lovely weather we're having," Cefa said and smiled at Eya. "This warm breeze makes me feel like Spring is really here in Hicares."
Eya gave the old woman a look that communicated the discussion of weather would stop there. “Nothing happened.”
“In all my centuries on Telverin,” Cefa said, shaking her head. “I’ll never understand why you mortals are so illogical when it comes to sex. He wants you. You want him. Stop wanting each other and just have each other.”
The four joined the Duke and the Hicaron brothers at their camp right as the sun disappeared behind them. A scout was already back from investigating the Pescelean encampment, which was just out of sight. Pescel seemed prepared for an attack, but only slightly more than they had been before. In the morning, they would strike.
As had become custom, Eya sat with Cefa and Daijah around their own campfire. The air was not as bracing now that they were some distance from the snowy peaks of Kandum. Cefa didn't seem much more comfortable in it, however. Daijah filled them in on the attack plan that his father formed once he received word from his scout.
"Tomorrow, you two and Rhin will stay on that peak there," Daijah explained, pointing at a high peak. "It's going to be a bit of a hike. So, you'll need to wake up early. I'll help you get up there, Cefa. Don't worry about your knees."
"I wasn't going to complain about my knees," Cefa responded, "but I appreciate it, dear boy."
"Eya, you will coordinate your storm with the movements of our troops, just like we practiced," Daijah continued.
"Does your father understand how we work?" she asked, hoping that the other Kandum troops wouldn't throw a curveball into their well-rehearsed maneuvers.
"Not yet," Daijah said and shook his head. “It took some convincing to let us do things this way, actually. That’s why Rhin is going with you. He wanted someone he trusted making sure you both don’t do something crazy.”
“Crazy?!” Eya scoffed in exasperation. “I know he’s your father, but that’s nonsense.”
Daijah sighed. “My father can be set in his ways, but he’s a general for a reason. Try to be patient with him.”
“I’ll try,” Eya responded.
“My father will hold his troops back and watch how we work together,” Daijah continued. “They won't come in until we disarm the mages. By then, your storm will be over, and my father's men can do what they do best."
"Murder people," Cefa grumbled.
"Cefa," Daijah exhaled. "You know as well as I do that more Pesceleans died at the hands of those mages than by Kandumes. By winning quickly, we probably saved more of your soldiers than harmed. Besides, I have a plan for you that I think you will like."
"Doubtful, but let's see what you have," Cefa conceded, leaning back and crossing her arms.
Daijah reached into his tent behind him and came out with Cefa's staff in his hands. He offered it to the old woman, who grabbed it with suspicion.
"Does your father know you're giving this back to me?" she asked with narrowed eyes.
"Not at all, and I don't care," Daijah answered. "The three of us know how much more there is at stake than who sits in the Hicaron throne. Eya, from your vantage, you should be able to tell when the mages are using magical attacks. There's also plenty of space to carve out your healing spells."
"I understand," Cefa said, nodding with uncharacteristic solemnity. "Thank you."
"Thank you, Cefa," Daijah said and then whispered, "I can still hear their screams."
His mind raced back to that battle. Kandumes and Pesceleans alike succumbed to the barrage of magical energy, melting through them like lava. Even the biggest, toughest men on the field sounded like pigs at slaughter as they screamed in agony. He would do anything to avoid that again. Cefa would need to be ready with her staff.
Knowing that they would be awake before the light broke, they decided to get some rest. Eya headed for the tent she shared with Cefa, when Daijah stopped her. He held onto her for a moment to stare into her silver-green eyes and wished for so much more.
"You could sleep in my tent again tonight," he offered.
"What about your father?" Eya asked, remembering Rhin's advice to downplay her feelings for Daijah.
"What about him?" he asked, moving closer to her, placing his hands on her hips. "We'll be up before dawn. He doesn't have to know."
"Something tells me he'd find out," Parvon said, intruding on their intimate moment.
"Parvon!" Eya exclaimed, jumping away from Daijah. "I thought you went to bed."
"I did, but I got up to make sure that you felt all right about tomorrow," Eya's brother responded, casting a frozen glance in Daijah's direction. "Looks like you feel just fine."
"We were just…" Eya began.
"Save it," Parvon interrupted, holding up a hand. "Anyone with eyes can see what's been going on with you two. However, you need to remember you are a princess, and he needs to remember he isn't a duke yet. You both have your place, and there's no time for romance in the middle of a war."
"Is it because I'm a princess or a woman, Parvon?" Eya snapped as Parvon turned to walk away. "You sure didn't seem to have a problem with Novem seducing Queen Esamne. How is this any different?"
"The difference," Parvon growled at his sister, "is that Novem's romance saved our lives, and yours could kill us all. Grow up, Little Eya!"
The nickname stung coming from her big brother. She stood there feeling too hurt to respond.
Parvon stormed off to his tent.
Daijah set a comforting hand on her shoulder. Perhaps, her feelings for Daijah weren't wise. Maybe, they were a distraction. There was nothing that she could do about it. They were there, growing stronger each day, and sometimes they were the only reason she kept pushing. Still, she had to know her limits.
"I'll sleep in Cefa's tent tonight," she whispered to Daijah.
"Agreed," he whispered back.
It seemed like she had just laid her head down when she felt Daijah shaking her shoulder to wake her. She grumbled about it not being morning yet and turned to fall back asleep.
Cefa's still slumbering body passed gas loudly and noxiously.
"Why?!" Eya cried out. "You're a goddess! Do you have to break wind?"
"What?" Cefa grumbled, Eya's cries waking her. "Letting out a barking spider is one of my joys in life."
"Barking spider?" Daijah asked, covering his face to keep the pungent smell away.
"You know!" Cefa exclaimed. "A fluffer-doodle, a bottom burp, a borborygmus. A fart."
"Fine, I'm up," Eya said, pushing past Daijah to get out of the tent for some fresh mountain air. Behind her, she could hear Daijah laughing at Cefa and the term "air biscuit." She chuckled to herself a little, nearly forgetting the grim reason why they were up before dawn. They met Rhin and the group made their way up to the peak Daijah indicated the night before. He carried Cefa on his back, like a small baby and not a grown woman. Eya held onto Cefa's staff. It was so lightweight and rather ordinary looking. Anyone looking at it might think it was a broken shepherd's crook and not a powerful tool wielded by an actual goddess.
Once they made it to the top, a weak sliver of sunlight glimmered over the horizon before them. Daijah pointed out the Pescelean encampment below. The magical barrier was a bit bigger than the one she used for practicing in Kandum. This made her feel a little nervous, but Cefa assured her that it wouldn't take any additional effort to take down a bigger dome.
"It's like a bubble," Cefa explained. "Once it's popped, it's popped, no matter its size."
Daijah had to rush back to the Kandumes and Hicaron brothers below before the sky got any brighter. Eya watched him leave until he was just a speck in the distance and then brought her attention to the Pesceleans below. They were barely more than specks themselves, but there were things she could make out. She saw them lining up in formation. They knew a battle was coming, but had no idea what the Kandumes had planned.
Rhin walked a little distance in front of Eya and Cefa, his sword drawn in case someone spotted them on the peak.
"Cefa," Eya said, handing the staff back to the healer, "you saw that village. Did...did you watch Pesceleans do things like that?"
"My dear girl," Cefa replied, stroking Eya's left cheek, staring at the scars left there just a month before, "I have seen men do so many terrible and depraved things over the centuries. Men that I thought had good hearts, taking down women and children alike."
"You didn't answer my question," Eya said, pushing Cefa's hand away from her cheek.
"Well, not exactly," she replied. "I only arrived when there was an oncoming battle, but what I saw was bad enough. Most of the Hicarean soldiers were just babes, really."
"Yet, you still stayed with them, supported them, healed them," Eya said, shaking her head. "How?"
"It's not who they truly are," Cefa answered. "It's the magic that Pecu created long ago that fills them with the drive to dominate others, regardless of the terror it incurs."
"Do you think Daijah gets like that?" Eya asked, her eyes wide.
Cefa thought back to the battle where she met Daijah. He was terrifying, a giant of a man wielding a sword so expertly that to be near him was to die instantly. He didn't even seem aware of the path of destruction he caused. Then she remembered how scared she felt when he locked eyes with her. Even in her magical barrier, she felt certain somehow that it would fail her, and she would finally die. All hope was lost when she lost her staff, and the rain had destroyed all her work. She was on her hands and knees, knowing that surely this was how the Goddess Clesta, known to some as Cefa, would end her long life on Telverin.
Yet, his hand reached through her barrier, not to harm her, but to help her to her feet. He told her to hide in her tent and stay safe. Putting his own life at risk during that battle, he had stopped to help an old woman in need. Was Daijah filled with the desire to conquer?
"No," Cefa answered. "Daijah is a good boy."
The whole sun was over the horizon then, casting a peaceful, golden aura over the valley below. In this light, Eya could imagine a picnic on the lawn or a long walk picking wildflowers. It was hard to imagine men killing each other.
"Just remember to keep the storm over there," Cefa said, seeing the agonized expression on Eya's face. "Keep it dry over here so I can heal."
Eya nodded, gulping a little to remind herself to breathe. The problem with her emotional connection to the weather was that it wasn't easy to control. It wasn't just difficult because she might accidentally bring on weather by feeling a certain way. To bring on the storm, she must call on the emotions tied to it. Eya had to feel the fear, the natural fight or flight response, she felt when her life had been in danger. That meant reliving some of the worst moments of her life. Anyone watching her bring on the storm could tell she was in pain, but it wasn't a physical pain. It was an emotional one.
"I'll be here for you," Cefa said, knowing what Eya had to do, "when your job is done."
"Thank you," Eya said and then saw below that Daijah's troops were swooping in, surrounding the dome of the magical barrier.
With a deep inhale, Eya lifted her arms above her head and lifted her face to the sky. She thought about the panic she felt when the Captain discovered his dead First Mate and approached her with murder in his eyes. She remembered the Dowager's calls to The Palace guards to capture and execute her. She remembered Brilsen Rabrith's threats in Pecuna and in the shed, where he almost succeeded in killing both her and Daijah.
The golden dawn disappeared behind ominous clouds. Above the Pescelean encampment, a torrent of rain flooded down on them with a sudden force that caused many to slip. Thunder rumbled, vibrating through the craggy peaks circling the valley below. A sudden bolt of purple-white lightning whipped out of the air, breaking the bubble of the dome, eviscerating it.
Cefa got her staff ready. Soon, the mages would come flying out, wands at the ready to either rebuild the dome or attack the enemy. She believed it would be the latter, since it takes hours to rebuild a magical barrier. With the way the encampment nestled neatly into a bowl of a valley, she could only foresee massive magical damage if she wasn't quick with her healing spells.
Eya let loose another lightning bolt to pop the barrier over the mage's lodge below. As predicted, the mages came running with their wands high above their heads. They flung balls of energy out at the invading Kandumes. Cefa set about sketching the spell into the ground below her with her staff. Healers or, as some called them, priests, didn't throw energy around like mages. They told it what to do. They gave it direction. Healers used codes to provide the magic with a goal and a path to get there. This spell would tell the magical energy to leave the afflicted bodies and return to the mages' wands. The problem with that was that she had to keep doing it over and over because the mages would keep flinging it back out until the Kandumes disarmed them.
So, Eya heard the screams echoing throughout the valley below. It was unlike anything she ever heard before. It wasn't a wail nor a cry, but something inhuman, like the magic was ripping their souls apart. The storm became more difficult to control as the terror of their pain below crept into her. Even at this distance, it was hard to keep disconnected from the horrors of battle. She took deep, rhythmic breaths and called on the lightning to take down the lodges below, setting them ablaze.
"That's enough, Eya," Cefa said, setting a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Daijah's given the signal. They got the last of the wands."
Eya collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion and watched the Duke's men flood into the valley below. Cefa set her staff down gently and sat next to the princess, letting the young woman fall onto her lap with silent tears. She shushed and stroked Eya's hair as if she was a child with their first scrape.
"It's all right now, dear girl," Cefa whispered. "Their pain is gone."
"What about the ones that died?" Eya asked, fearful tears burning in her eyes.
"Their pain is gone, too," Cefa soothed, "but it's okay to cry if you need to."
So, that's what Eya did. She sat with her head in Cefa's lap, watching the bloody battle below, crying. It was too far away and chaotic to tell who was who anymore. For all she knew, Daijah had fallen on the sword of a Pescelean soldier. When she said as much to Cefa, the old woman wanted to tell her that Daijah would be fine, but she knew full well that no man, no matter how capable, was truly safe in battle. The clouds from Eya's storm parted, revealing the sun was high in the sky when at last, they saw a white flag waving below.
"Is that a Pescelean or a Kandumes waving that flag?" she asked Cefa. Crying had swollen her eyes and impaired her vision.
"It's a Pescelean," Cefa said, unable to hide the sadness from her voice. "The Kandumes and Hicarons won here today."
"That's good," Eya sighed. "Cefa, I don't want the prophecy to be true."
"I know, dear girl," Cefa replied. "Don't worry. They rarely are."
"I can't do it," Eya said. "I won't do it. I refuse to kill all those people."
"That's my girl," Cefa said with a proud smile. "Now, how on Telverin do I get down this mountain?"
A moment later, Simrin and Novem appeared to escort them both. Cefa tried to climb onto Novem's back the way she had with Daijah, but the Hicaron prince wasn't as strong as the Kandumes soldier. She made do with holding on to their arms and taking the steps down slowly. Despite feeling exhausted, Eya rushed down the side of the mountain, frantic to see Daijah.
The scene at the battle was unlike anything she ever witnessed. She hadn't expected to lose her footing in the blood of the fallen. Fortunately, she managed to grab onto a tree before winding up on her hands and knees in the sickening liquid beneath her. Soldiers were carting off injured men, Kandumes and Pescelean alike, to the largest lodge. Eya looked all around her for Daijah's face, afraid that he might be one of the wounded. She couldn't see him anywhere. So, she ran straight for the lodge to see if someone had already put him on a bed.
At last, she saw him. He had a wound, but not a bad one. He had one bandaged arm, but he wasn't lying on a cot. He administered first aid to others, splinting bones and suturing wounds. She wanted to run to him, but saw his concentration. He was hard at work doing what he loved, healing others. She didn't want to interrupt that. So, she walked out of the lodge and straight into Parvon.
"Parvon!" she cried, throwing her arms around her big brother, forgetting all about his painful words the night before. He squeezed her tight in response, which startled her. He was usually cold and reserved. "You're okay."
"So are you!" he replied, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "I was worried about you."
"I was so far away,” Eya said, "Nothing could have hit me."
"That's not what I meant,” Parvon said, shaking his head. "My first battle...well, I never wanted this for you."
"I know,” she said with a slow nod. Despite his cruel words the night before, she knew he wanted her to be safe and happy. In fact, he had probably said what he said about her and Daijah mostly out of concern for her wellbeing. "I'm sorry about last night."
"No, I'm the one that's sorry,” her brother replied. "Life shouldn't be all duty. We could all die tomorrow. Grab on to what joy you can now."
Novem and Simrin joined them soon. Cefa assisted Daijah in healing the wounded. Eya didn't know what to do with herself. She couldn't exactly go around boasting that she was the one who brought the magical barrier down and destroyed many of the enemy's lodges. That was all supposed to be under wraps. It was part of why the Duke of Rodovan ordered her to sit on that peak.
"You're doing a great job," Simrin said to her as they sat eating some rations.
"All I did was blast a couple of things," she said and shrugged. "You soldiers did all the hard parts."
"I'm not talking about the storm, though I'm a little baffled at your humility there," Simrin said, shaking his head. "I'm talking about how you're following the advice I gave you back home."
"Hmm…" Eya thought a moment and then remembered. "Always let them underestimate you and then fight dirty?"
"That's the one," Simrin said with a crooked grin. "I love that my kid sister could beat any of these asses, but they all treat her like a porcelain doll."
Eya laughed long and heartily at that. She looked up to see a blood-splattered Daijah approaching them. A tired but relieved smile was on his face. Eya stood up to greet him, but the words never made it out of her mouth. His mouth came crashing down on hers. It caught her by surprise, but soon she gave him her own hungry kisses back. In their little pocket of bliss, they'd forgotten that soldiers and her brothers surrounded them.
"I thought you might be hurt," she whispered in gasps between kisses. "I was so scared for you."
"I'm fine," he whispered back. "I had you to come back to."
Daijah felt tempted to forget all about his noble intentions to wait until the war was over to make love to Eya. The lack of an empty tent nearby prevented him from doing just that. The reality of their situation came crashing down on him when he turned around, with Eya in his arms, to see his father glowering at him. He gently let Eya down then, and she found herself hiding from the Duke behind Daijah.
"This is a battleground," the Duke barked. "Not a brothel, and that is not a whore."
The Duke was pointing at Eya now, her face scored with red. She was suddenly aware of every soldier around them and registered several aroused expressions. She wanted to crawl into a hole and hide away forever. Then, Parvon stepped forward.
"King Parvon," the Duke said, bowing a little. "I am so sorry for my son's behavior."
"No apology is necessary," Parvon said. "Sometimes, when you survive another day of battle, the desire to have a woman is strong. It is natural in his case since he and Eya are betrothed."
"They were betrothed," the Duke corrected him.
"Daijah," Parvon called out to the Duke's son, "is it your intention to marry my sister when this war is over?"
"Yes," Daijah answered. He was too frightened to look at his father. So, he snuck a glance at Eya instead.
"Really, Daijah?" Eya whispered, and he gave her a nod in response.
"Well, there you go," Parvon said with a shrug. "It looks like they are betrothed."
"Now, wait a minute," the Duke growled. "As his father, I have some say over who he will marry."
"Oh?" Parvon said. "Do you have any objection to your son, the heir to a dukedom, marrying my sister, a princess, and sister to the King of Hicares?"
The Duke had no words to respond. Parvon gave him a polite smile before walking toward his sister. Behind Parvon's back, the Duke's features twisted in spite and hatred. The Duke of Rodovan didn't like Hicaron men telling him what to accept, even by a king. For the first time, Daijah didn't feel that Eya or her brothers were safe around his father.