Page 59 of Prince of Night and Storm
Juliette over fighting for him.”
“We've discussed this before, Aerinne. Lord Danon gave the
order, and as his Heir you executed your duty by obeying his
command.” She pauses. “The fault for his capture lies with
those who took him, and perhaps he himself for not preparing
better. Your task was to assume command in your brother’s
absence, which commenced the moment he knelt. The welfare
of your people became your first responsibility. ”
The door to the dining room opens, people spilling out. Numair and Juliette approach, Tereille on their heels. Baba nods at them, then squeezes my shoulder one more time and lets go.
“There's work to do in preparation for the talks and the University has its role—I’ll be on campus much of my time for the next several weeks; do not wait evening meals on me. Get some rest. I need to speak with Manuelle and Louvenia.” He leaves.
He’s the best of our House. A brilliant diplomat and philosopher. He taught classes at Everenne University when my mother met and claimed him. He understands how to make people like and trust him. He understands how to get people to cooperate. Sometimes I wonder if I'm truly his daughter.
I whirl on her. “You just contradicted yourself, Ward! What
have you been telling me for years? That the responsibility
for leadership, for the House, for all the deaths, for all the
strikes that go wrongwhile under my command, are not all
my fault! You were lying.”
Her voice is cool. “I did not lie. You understand these situations
are nuanced.”
“Nuanced.” I spit the word like a curse. “Convenient how the
nuance always protects me but not everyone else.”
“Do you regret the choice you and Lord Danon made to protect
Numair and Juliette?”
“Hot tub or alcohol?” Juliette slings an arm over my shoulders. “The others are gathering. We haven't decided how we want to drown our misery tonight.”
“No alcohol,” Numair says, giving Juliette a look. “It’s not even afternoon.”
She shrugs. “Why be ruled by the sun?”
His look turns into a glare.
“I'm suppressing my sorrow with swains,” Tereille trills, heading in the direction of Édouard office. “Preferably more than one, and at the same time.”
“If Ard believed your boasts, he would break down and bawl.” Juliette stops and smacks her palm against her forehead, brow furrowing as she concentrates, speaking the next wordsslowly. “You jest, but he’s justly jealous.” She shouts in fury. “Tereille!”
“Don’t bother,” I mutter.
He glances over his shoulder through a lock of his streaked hair, his grin wicked. “I didn't say he won’t be one of them.”
