“You can simply refuse my prince,” The priest said, studying the purple mark. “Not to be too far out of line, but you aren’t exactly the soldiering type.”
“You don’t say no to Solin Rain. The man has a stare about him that makes to feel so inferior if you can’t meet his expectations of you. So far, that expectation seems to be that I lead the armies into battle from the back of my horse and die a death so glorious that it will be sung about for generations.”
“That would complicate your other plans.”
“Our plans,” Ulanain corrected.
“Yes, of course.”
Ulanain frowned at that. “I’m not holding my shirt up just to show off the rewards of my labors.”
“Oh, I see.” The priest placed a hand on Ulanain’s bruise that brought a shock of pain before a soothing coldness drifted into his marrow fro
