23. RanRan waited for Menhroth's reply. He stared at the blue ice, at the King's armoured foot. He dared look no higher until he was granted assent. The ice was smooth, reflecting the distorted shape of the figure standing over him.
It had been so hard maintaining the pretence all this time. He'd walked among hated enemies his whole life. He'd protected the girl through everything, making sure the precious heir of Ilminion survived to be delivered to this culmination. All the agonies he'd suffered: the wounds, the burns, the hatred and mistrust, all of it to keep her blood flowing long enough to be used in the Ritual.
He'd made so many sacrifices. In the other world, pursued by the soldiers of Genera, he'd been forced to give up his sword. Wedge it into the hasp of a rusting iron grating
