His eyes widened only slightly, as though in curiosity.
“That’s not possible,” the Trevan whispered.
“Are you certain of that?”
“How would you know if you did see him?” asked the mustache man.
“I met him once,” she said simply. “If you recall, he helped convince the dragoon council to allow me to earn my sword.”
The Trevan’s eyes leaped comically wide. “By Trevandor’s b****y blade!”
“What are you doing?” the Feather Commander hissed. The fat man sneered. “How can we trust your word?”
Taliesimon gave a bitter smile. “The eternal question. Please, indulge me, my lords. How long has the Prince been missing?”
“Keep your cursed voice down,” the Trevan whispered with deadly calm.
“That’s right,” Taliesimon said softly as she stepped up to the foot of the council table. “No one knows, do
