“You're Crysanta's son, aren't you?” Mother asks, and my father bristles visibly.
“Yes, your majesty. I'm Geraint.” He answers softly, but I can hear the caution in his tone, his eyes focused on my father.
“What is this Saoirse?” His tone is quiet, doubt and suspicion evident in his stance.
“Mother, Father, Geraint helped us escape. He was being help prisoner as well, so I am giving him sanctuary from Tiberius, he is my guest.” My voice is clear and crisp, commanding everyone's attention. There is a lot between these two men, a lot for us to discuss, but that can wait. I’m too tired to deal with it now.
“We will discuss this later.” Father interjects.
“We have a lot to discuss, Father, but this — this is not up for debate.” The anger simmers under the surface, threatening to break fre
