Page 21 of The Princess Knight
“I was thinking of going to—”
“There’s something I must do. I’ll see you later?” Domhnall said, interrupting him, his gaze following Niamh as she turned down the hall.
“Of course.” Ronan shot him a questioning look, but the prince was already walking away.
Before Ronan could wonder what Domhnall was up to, a voice called out to him.
“Ó Faoláin.” Kordislaen stood a few feet behind him. “Speak with me for a minute.”
After years of training, preparing, working toward this moment, Ronan found he suddenly couldn’t find words. He could only nod and wait to see what the general said.
“You’ve grown into quite the warrior, just as I predicted.” The expression that grew on Kordislaen’s face could almost be called a smile.
Ronan cleared his throat. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you, sir.”
The general nodded. “Of course, training and studying does help, but it’s your keen mind and apt instincts that have brought you the success you’ve found. I knew when I first saw you—you had potential most people couldn’t even dream of. I always had faith you would find your way here.”
Ronan’s heart raced in his chest. Kordislaen still remembered him. He still believed in him. “Thank you, sir. For everything.”
“There’s no need to thank me. I did my duty to Scáilca and to Ríoghain by encouraging you on your journey. You make a fine warrior, and I know you have already served your kingdom well. All I expect in return is that you continue down this path.”
He tried to come up with a dignified response, something other thanThank you, I will, orHow could I ever repay you for this?
In the end, he simply nodded again.
“You have dealt with a lot in your life, more than most your age. Still, you rose above your peers and persevered. That takes true strength. Strength some of your fellow daltas could only dream of. However, I do worry a few may get jealous of the assistance you received.” Kordislaen’s words were careful. “They might believe you’ll get preferential treatment as a result. Youwillbe treated as all the rest—you’ll face repercussions as anyone else would—but desperation spawns suspicion. It might be best you keep your history to yourself.”
My history. Kordislaen meant his influence on Ronan’s life.
“Yes, sir,” Ronan said at once. “Of course.”
“Good. Off, then. Try to get more studying in before the dinner tomorrow. The best way to avoid falling behind is by reaching ahead.”
***
“YOUR ROOM IS BORING.” DOMHNALL PERUSED THE SMALLspace. Between the two of them, there wasn’t much room for walking around, but Domhnall tried nevertheless. “Like you,” he added, as an afterthought.
The copy ofAn Annotated History of Tinelannsat useless in Ronan’s hands. He should be reading it, but the prince was insisting on making that difficult.
“You should be grateful it’s large enough for your ego,” Ronan replied.
In the Suanriogh palace, guards would share rooms. He often found himself living with four other warriors. Having a space all to himself was a luxury.
The room was clean but bare. He had no use for decorations, and besides, he didn’t know how long he would be staying here. For him, there was double the risk of being sent home—if Domhnall was dismissed, Ronan as his guard would depart with the prince. And if Ronan himself was dismissed... Well, he didn’t want to think about that. Still, he had to be prepared to leave on a moment’s notice. As a result, the only personal touch in his room were the books. He was here to improve as a warrior, and there was no greater way to better oneself outside of reading. Tomes and texts were stacked on the floor and piled neatly on every possible surface.
Domhnall was poking at the cover of a copy ofThe Time of the Treibh Anamwhen he spoke next. “I heard Kordislaen address you as I was leaving. What did he want to talk to you about?”
“Nothing important.” Ronan turned back to his book.
“Oh, so we’re being mysterious now?”
The thud of a book tumbling off the table forced Ronan to look back up at the prince, who stood beside the wreckage—a picture of innocence.
The man was worse than a cat.
After a pointed look, Domhnall handed the fallen book over to Ronan. Its spine had already been worn with age, and the fall was the final blow. The pages were loose. It would be a pain to read now.
“You broke my book.”
