14. Compassion Like a Dagger
Compassion Like a Dagger
Fury drives Nevander’s sword to his empty hand, which held Seren not a breath ago. Teleportation is impossible within the palace, even for the First Ritekeeper. Which means Primrose has whisked Seren into her haven, with the flimsiest thread of consent.
“Bring him back now,” Nevander snarls. Magic blurs the edge of his blade.
Shadows and light sharpen subtly, painting Primrose in greater contrast than the rest of the library. Power radiates from her. Not oppressive. A great beast of Summer doesn’t need to exaggerate her strength.
Nevander is no match for her, but his blade doesn’t waver.
He agreed to the demonstration, Primrose says, with enraging serenity.
She’s right, and Nevander will impress the importance of caution on Seren later. As soon as his prince is back where he belongs. “He knew not what he agreed to.”
How should he learn if you do all his thinking for him?
“He arrived yesterday.” Nevander struggles to control himself. Panic won’t help Seren. “He should have had his entire childhood to learn the rules.”
The shadows soften, and Primrose sinks onto her hindquarters. I warned Haelwen against using the changeling spell. But what’s done is done—to Seren, and to you.
She wields compassion like a dagger.
Nevander lowers his blade. “Is he safe?”
Primrose huffs a laugh. That is a complicated word.
“Not that complicated.” With tremendous force of will, Nevander sheathes his sword. “Let me in. I can’t think for him, but I can stay by his side.”
Seconds tick past as Primrose considers. Seconds in which Seren is alone in a great beast’s haven, facing an unknown lesson. Seconds in which thorns twist around Nevander’s heart.
You may join him for the second test, Primrose says at last, dark eyes glinting. If he passes the first.