Chapter 114
Biting back a sailor’s oath she’d learned from Ranald, she stopped again and glared at him. “I think you mean, Helfred, that you wish to pick my brains and winnow my heart so you can report my innermost thoughts and feelings to your uncle!” “Highness!” said Helfred, offended, and drew himself up to his full, inconsequential height. Her temper was like an unbroken horse, fighting at the end of a rope to be free. “Helfred?” “You are unjust, Princess Farmerion,” he said, his voice unsteady. “I did not ask to be born the prolate’s nephew any more than you asked to be born daughter to a king. These matters are arranged by gods, not man. My concerns lie only with you and your soul, and whatever you tell me in confidence I lock in my breast and would not reveal under any circumstance. No, not
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