Page 22 of The Princess Knight
“You got it from my family’s library, so I believe it’s actually my book. It’s nothing special anyway—I’m sure they have a copy here at Caisleán.” Domhnall shrugged. “May we go back to the matter at hand and discuss your conversation with the general?”
Ronan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “There’s nothing to say.”
Domhnall already knew Ronan’s connection to Kordislaen and his motivation behind coming to Caisleán, but Ronan felt reluctant to remind him of it now that Kordislaen had asked him to stay quiet. And a small voice in the back of Ronan’s mind whispered that maybe Kordislaen was right, that people wouldn’t believe Ronan had earned his place. An even smaller voice wondered if they would be wrong to think that. After all, would he even be here if it weren’t for Domhnall’s requesting it?
It doesn’t matter. It was your hard work that led you to become the captain of Domhnall’s guard.
Of course, you also knew growing closer to the prince would secure you a better position.
Guilt crept up Ronan’s throat. “Fine. Ask what you would like.”
Domhnall gave him a strange look. “And you’ll reply in more than one syllable?”
Ronan held back another sigh. Domhnall never made things easy. “Yes,” Ronan mumbled, but the prince tilted his head knowingly. “I promise.” He forced the extra words out.
“Thank you.” Domhnall smiled broadly—there was nothing that made Domhnall happier than winning. “I thought it would be a little harder to convince you to talk. I was deciding between torture methods.”
Ronan wasn’t convinced this wasn’t a torture method.
Domhnall tilted his head, most likely debating how to begin his inquisition. “Have you written to your father yet, since being back in Scáilca?”
He wished the prince had asked about Kordislaen.
“No,” Ronan admitted quietly.
“You promised more syllables,” Domhnall reminded him.
Ronan glared. “Fine. No, I haven’t sent him a letter yet, because I don’t want to feel bad about finally reaching my goal.”
His friend’s face softened into something more understanding. “Your father worries about you; you can’t hold that against him.”
Ronan knew Domhnall was right. While Ronan’s nightmares were of his mother, his father’s were of Ronan. He’d lost his wife to the path of the warrior, and then Ronan had willfully chosenthe same path. The man saw Ronan’s attending Caisleán Cósta as Ronan committing himself to an inevitable death.
“I’ll write to him tonight,” he promised. “Now answer a question of mine: Where did you go off to after class?”
“I had a question for Draoi Griffin.” Domhnall leaned back, hands resting on Ronan’s travel chest. The response wouldn’t seem unusual for Domhnall, except Draoi Griffin had still been in the classroom when they left.
Which meant Domhnall was keeping something from him. Again.
“I can’t believeClíais here,” Domhnall continued. “Surely to remind me of all my mistakes.” Ronan would think this abrupt change in subject were a diversion if the prince’s expression wasn’t so surprisingly sincere. “I did the right thing, stopping the betrothal. Didn’t I?”
There was doubt in Domhnall’s eyes. Ronan had seen the prince proud, afraid, stubborn, and determined—but doubt was new.
“You said King Cathal didn’t approve,” Ronan replied. “It would be foolish to go against his will. And the princess clearly isn’t a warrior—that much was made clear today.”
“You’re right, of course.” Domhnall nodded, but the doubt in his expression didn’t vanish. Before Ronan could question it, the prince picked up Ronan’s copy ofAn Annotated History of Tinelannand scanned it. “Anything good in this one?”
“Very little that could help the effort against Tinelann. Nor much in the way of motivation, outside agricultural struggles that might make them turn south for new land.”
“No historic ties to Ionróir we might have missed?” As theScáilcan prince, Domhnall had access to all Inismian’s knowledge, but he still supported Ronan’s research.
“None that I can find. Tinelann always had strong naval influence; it wouldn’t surprise me if they sailed to Ionróir themselves to plan these attacks. But there’s nothing here that would help us guess at what they promised the Ionróiran court or predict what their next move will be.”
Domhnall nodded. “Tinelann’s new king has lost Draoi support, and we’ve yet to discover why. Every time we press the Draoi for more information, they shut us down with their vow of neutrality. Hypocritical bastards. They’re fine with playing politics when it comes to making the kingdoms bow to them...”
This was not a new rant from Domhnall. Ronan gave him a look—they needed to be careful speaking ill of the Draoi in the castle—and the prince rolled his eyes. Once Domhnall had left, Ronan looked back at the book. His efforts thus far had yielded no new information. Perhaps it was time to look elsewhere.
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