The graduation ceremony was attended by all the cadets, all the officer corps and, likely because she was in it, the entire High Council and Court. The stands held maybe five hundred people. There were easily three times that many.

The drums started and Nyssa, mounted on Roan, was waiting inside the open-air covered driveway that led down from the stable just before opening onto the grounds. She was feeling a little nervous. She wanted to see Jara. She needed to see him right now. She wanted his reassurance, his calming confidence in her. He wasn’t there and she didn’t know where he was. Roan shifted restlessly underneath her and she absently chastised him for fretting.

Nyssa sighed. Roan had dropped his ears back at her unkind words and snorted.

“I’m sorry, my love,” she said soothingly, patting him affectionately on the neck. “I’m nervous too, beloved. We’ll get through it soon enough, I promise,” she added and the big horse pricked his ears up again.

Nyssa’s mind wandered and she was once again lost in worry for Jara. She saw one of his bunkmates walking by and asked him about Jara, but the man shook his and shrugged before running off again.

“Princess Nyssa,” she heard a stern voice say behind her. In full armour, turning was cumbersome, so she turned her head and lowered her body to see. Admiral Brom, wearing his own full armour and followed by General Titus likewise dressed, was walking up the left side of Roan. He stopped at his shoulder and she could see he was inspecting her suit. He nodded after a minute.

“Very well,” he said to no one, she deduced.

“Well met, Admiral Brom,” she greeted him respectfully and removed her helmet to offer him a bow. He saw this and removed his own after a second. Titus followed.

“You have done well, Sir Nyssa,” Brom said to her. “I wish to congratulate you on your successes and wish you well on your future path.”

Nyssa bowed again to the admiral.

“Thank you, Admiral. My time here has been both a challenge and an inspiration. I will take it with me the rest of my days,” she said formally. He smiled at her and nodded before replacing his helmet and moving out into the grounds to take his seat. Titus stayed back a bit.

“Your father is making his way to the podium now with Sir Brack,” he said to her. “It will start when he’s ready,” he said and Nyssa nodded. “We are all proud of you, Nyssa. I know your father tries not to say it often, and that’s his way to show you strength, but he is pleased. More than pleased. Perhaps I am overstepping his confidence in me, but I wanted you to know it.”

“Thank you, General Titus,” she said, trying hard to hide the emotion in her voice.

Titus, the most senior man during her father’s entire military, had been a teacher at various stages of her academic career, usually strategy. He’d taken a keen interest in her aptitude and had a gentle fondness for her spirit. Of all her teachers, Titus seemed the most interested in her future career as well, as if he expected her reign in his lifetime. As he was pushing seventy, Nyssa doubted that he would live to see that, but Titus was strong and firm in his command; a throng of officers carried out his commands, but he still wore his armour regularly and stood secure in his commission, her father a long and close friend.

He nodded and patted her leg gently.

“Luck in battle, Princess,” he said and Nyssa smiled at the old military saying, applicable to mean good luck to any challenge one could face.

“General,” she called after him and she was immediately more nervous. He turned slowly, just stopping from replacing his helmet. “Have you seen Sir Jara, per chance? He was absent from practice; I was hoping he’d be a bit early today so I could brief him.” She hoped the little white lie would stick. Titus regarded her for a single second but shook his head.

“No, Princess,” he said and moved his helmet to secure it. “Jara is occupied with other matters right now. You will likely only see him again at the ceremony tonight.”

He turned and walked away from her. Nyssa could only stare after him in disappointment. The ceremony that night would rob him of the pageantry earned for his own graduation. It did not in the least seem fair, let alone she was anxious about just about everything. His absence was a serious blow to her mood.

The drums had stopped for a while, the admiral and general having the time to make their speeches, and then they started again. Nyssa was called to prepare herself by the knights, who had just joined her formation. At the cue, Nyssa spurred Roan out onto the field at the head of them and at an impressive run meant to demonstrate a full charge. The pounding hooves were loud and the knights behind her kept close and straight, their horse’s blankets waving in the wind and the armour glinting in the sunlight.

Nyssa led them around the grounds in the broad arc that she was instructed and as the other mounted cadets completed their entry and little display, Nyssa brought her group back around to position their return facing the audiences. They refocused to appear back in the middle when the other cadets had moved on.

It was a swirling, thundering expression of constant movement and sound. Pennants and blankets in a multitude of colours, denoting regiments and companies from around the continent, flapped and swirled through the sea of silver and black steel, each held proudly by cadets who would soon ship off to join them. Nyssa and Roan wore her father’s colours, burgundy, black and gold embroidery, but her white, very long plume was recognizable amongst the grey and the brown. Even her father’s was a strong but subtle jet black.

When her group reunited at the middle, they fanned out behind her and the drums continued an impressive march to which Roan and the other horses moved to the beat, one hoof per strike until they were lined equally.

At the signal, a stop in the drumming and a single horn blast, Nyssa smoothly detached from the wall of mounted knights and turned left. She clicked her tongue for Roan to start prancing, which he did, striding sideways down the front of the line while she sat perfectly upright, one hand holding his reins. When they reached the end, her line broke evenly, split from her empty space, to run opposites sides, clearing the field. Nyssa, arriving at the end, picked up the bow and was surprised to see the batman light the arrow tip on fire, but she carried on.

She moved Roan to the edge, and stopped him for a second, adjusting her grip and trying to see where they had placed her target. She saw it there, at least four hundred feet from her position, and knew Roan would be well at top speed if she just let him, by the time they got there. She considered not running him full out but knew that was strictly against what the choreographer had wanted. He liked Roan fast; he wanted to showcase it. Nyssa looked at her brightly burning arrow tip and wondered what his skill with a bow was because this wasn’t going to be easy.

“Nice and smooth, baby,” she said to him and raised herself a bit in the saddle, at the same time calling him to go.

Roan did as he was instructed and she felt him ease into a long stride, rather than jog his way up. Nearing the podium now, she held tighter with her knees and stood, trying to adjust her legs to take Roan’s movements as much as possible. She had seconds to line up and make the shot.

Nyssa saw the target and heard nothing else. The bow string twanged when she let it go and the brightly lit arrow flew high in the sky and hit the target — not at centre — but within the rings and Nyssa sighed in huge relief. The crowd erupted in applause.

Nyssa sat back down and let Roan run to the other edge of the field and slowly rein in. She immediately dropped the bow to the side and turned him to make the run once again down the back and up the middle, where her phalanx reformed behind her. They made an impressive, tiered charge directly into the faces of the audience. At the last minute, they reined in and halted, close enough that Nyssa could see her brother was there and her father, including the expression he wore.

The drums had ended abruptly and perfectly timed with their final stop in front of the king. Madras waited a dramatic pause before standing and coming forward, raising his arms.

“Cadets!” he bellowed, “I salute you and all that you have accomplished! Orak’Thune welcomes your valour and bravery, all of us made stronger by your oaths today! All hail Orak’Thune!”

The audience responded in a thunderous “ALL HAIL ORAK’THUNE!” and Nyssa found the silence afterwards deafening.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nyssa caught a subtle movement. In a corner of the stadium overhang, just inside the stable door, Jara’s silhouette stood in the shadow. She sighed heavily, a bit in relief but not enough. Feeling Roan near dancing beneath her, she didn’t take her gaze from him and she knew he saw her too. At least he was there, at least he could see it, but she hoped with every ounce of her being he understood she performed in honour of him too.

---

Nyssa rode Roan at a mile crunching pace up the road to the capital and into the walled gates, his hooves clattering loudly at the change from dirt to cobblestone. Civilization was suddenly all around her and she marvelled at the advancements since she’d last been there. A new aqueduct repair had gone in above one of the boulevards, three tiers this time, and the civil planners had decorated it with pass-throughs to allow the sunlight. It was impressive and she thought likely hugely welcome, bringing more fresh water directly into the homes of the city.

After a brief ride through the centre roads that wound around the outside walls of the palisades, Nyssa entered the palace courtyard, a sprawling central loading and unloading area that housed the stables and the entrance to the greater storage areas. A smaller, more private entrance deep against the back wall, which was the castle wall itself, was where the royal family mounted and dismounted their horses, so they could securely move inside via an enclosed staircase that led directly to the living apartments.

Nyssa reined Roan in with a flourish and dismounted from him with a bounce. She nodded to the groomsman, who looked at him in surprise but said nothing further. She was a little early, so ran up the stairs to find Patrick, someone familiar she could talk to for a while.

Nyssa walked quickly down the broad carpeted hall and stopped long enough at his door to knock once and enter. She brought herself up abruptly when she walked in on him in an obviously advanced state of embrace with a courtier she vaguely recognized.

“Nyssa!” he exclaimed and he looked at her, then at his love interest, then back at her. The woman, just as shocked, tried to replace the clothing around her shoulders and chest but was not having much success. Patrick, his cheeks flushed, luckily found it more amusing than annoying.

“Patrick,” she said calmly and crossed her arms with a smile but didn’t try to leave.

“Your Majesty,” the woman said and curtsied low to her, still holding her failed shirt up with her hand across the front.

“Uh, Nyssa, you remember Lady Triana?” her brother said and indicated by pointing with both hands. Then he pulled her close with an awkward arm around Triana’s slight shoulders.

Nyssa was trying to remember her. She was slight, feminine and very pretty. Blonde hair, prim and tight features, delicate hands, all the traits of a finer lady. The name clicked in Nyssa’s mind but she couldn’t say more than if she’d ever met her.

“Lady Triana!” she said happily and moved forward to shake the woman’s hand. “Yes, of course! How are you?”

Triana extended her own hand but not without awkwardly having to switch them to keep up her clothes. She shook it weakly; Triana’s eyes were both embarrassed and apologetic. Patrick sighed and tried to keep it positive.

“Triana, honey, I’d like to catch up with my sister. Can I come see you in a bit? We’ll walk to the hall together,” he said gently.

Triana smiled and nodded in relief, Nyssa saw, curtsied again and nearly ran from the room. Patrick watched her go, looking distinctly at her rear end, and sighed a satisfied breath.

Nyssa, watching all this with her arms recrossed, smirked at him. He caught the look and shrugged but came over to envelope her in a big hug.

“You,” he said and pulled her back to look directly at her, “were incredibly impressive on that field today, sister,” he said and hugged her again.

“Thank you,” she replied and welcomed the warmth and genuine affection her brother always had for her. She had missed him. When they broke, he motioned for her to join him in a drink.

“My ceremony was not nearly as showy,” he said and poured them two glasses; one he handed to her. She raised it to him in thanks. “But then I didn’t wish to be Elite or a knight, so I guess that’s what I get then, eh?” he said and laughed. He held up his glass and she followed.

“To my over-achieving sister and all the impossible tasks that did not defeat her. Well done, Nyssa!” he said and drank the whole glass. Nyssa laughed and followed his example.

“Now,” she said. “Who is Triana and what was that all about?”

Patrick froze but only for a split second. She saw the grin on his face and it was more happiness than embarrassment.

“I love her,” he said and shrugged but laughed at the end like a schoolboy. Nyssa’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She put her glass down on the side table and walked over to a sitting chair. Patrick refilled her glass and followed her.

“So what does that mean?” Nyssa asked him, still playing it calmly. She accepted her drink but watched him intently.

Patrick took another swig of his own glass and sat down heavily. She always admired his loose demeanour. Patrick could be relaxed at a murder trial.

“I have asked her to marry me. In fact, that was what you just interrupted,” he said mockingly. Nyssa was about to drink again but stopped just short, her glass in mid-air.

“You can do that?” she said surprised. Patrick’s eyebrows rose this time.

“Kiss my fiancé? Sure, why not?” he said and laughed at her. Nyssa blinked.

“Doesn’t Father need to accept her or something?” she went on. Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Of course and he already has,” he said, “but he doesn’t care. She’s a lady, a courtier. Her parents are wealthy barons from the outer regions. She has the pedigree.”

Patrick leaned forward and pointed a finger at her, a bit more serious now.

“But, Nyssa, don’t for a second think that matters. She’s warm and sweet and she loves me despite myself. That’s a rare quality. I don’t intend to pass that up,” he said more seriously and took another large gulp of his wine.

Nyssa smiled at him. “Then I am supremely happy for you. For both of you,” Nyssa replied and raised her glass again.

“So when is the wedding?”

“We don’t know. Probably this winter when everything is calmer,” he said.

“Calmer?”

“Yes!” he laughed and slapped a knee. “You graduating, this Jara thing, Da getting half the Orak’Thune regiment ready; Uli has been at wit’s end with Da actually being around. He’s a bag of nerves. I’ll be glad when he’s gone again!”

Nyssa was just watching him. She nodded as if she agreed with him, but she hadn’t been aware that her daily life was firstly known, and secondly, been stressful for anyone else.

“Have you seen Jara?” she asked quietly and tried to hide her interest by lifting her cup. Patrick wasn’t fooled. He watched her and nodded. She waited.

“He’s been here all day. Prepping, well, he went missing this afternoon for a bit when I sent him to witness his graduation ceremony, for wind’s sake,” he said with a wide eye roll but just as quietly. Finished with his glass, he set it on the small side table. When he brought his hands back, he steepled them under his chin. She knew he was scrutinizing her for something.

“You’ve been friends with him for some time,” he said, not unkindly. Nyssa shrugged and nodded. Patrick waited, but when she added nothing, he went on.

“Are you lovers?” he asked her. Nyssa blinked at him. Patrick narrowed his eyes at her but then just pursed his lips and tried to smile.

“I see,” he said and moved his hands to fold them over his stomach.

“You have been told that you can’t have him, right? The law and the code are clear, Nyssa,” he said gently. Nyssa felt her expression change instantly to defensive. She said nothing in an effort not to make it worse.

Patrick leaned forward in his chair and now she saw incredible sympathy in his eyes. He reached out and touched her knee.

“I am so sorry, Nyssa,” he whispered. Nyssa shut her eyes to hold back the tears. “I wish I could say it was meant to be without hurting you. But I truly believe this is the right choice. I am sorry it will cost you something.”

“Is there nothing?” she asked him and when she opened her eyes, she wasn’t hiding her desperation. He watched her for a minute but shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “When he accepts the oaths, he will be confirmed. I warn you, Nyssa. You need to walk away from anything you two have right now. Brom, Titus, Brack especially will not be tolerant of any breech of the code. Orak’Thune, the council, will not be tolerant. He is meant to protect you, to protect your office. The respect he will command from the country and the world to carry out his duty will come from his loyalty to that office, not his familiarity with you. It’s not just about the power and the law, Nyssa. Politics are unruly and can be quite cruel. They will see you as weak and they will see him as distracted.”

Nyssa was in shock and horror over the truth she was hearing. The tears now rolled freely down her cheeks. Patrick moved to kneel in front of her, taking both her hands in his own and looking into her face.

“You do love him,” he said and wiped the tears with a crooked finger. Nyssa tried to hide by looking at the ceiling, but it wouldn’t stop.

“Then distance yourselves enough when you’re around others and maybe you can remain lovers, but by the winds, Nyssa, never ever let anyone catch you!” he whispered to her, shaking her hands hard. She looked down at him quickly, not believing what he was saying, which was encouraging her to break the law and risk it. For love.

Nyssa spent a few minutes and got her emotions under control. When she was done sniffing, she nodded and shook Patrick’s hands again.

“We will sever the relationship,” she said quietly to him. Patrick’s face fell a bit. “We’ve just got to do it. We haven’t yet.”

“Do you want me to tell him? From the point of view of the law?” he offered. She smiled at him but shook her head.

“He knows, as do I,” she said and wiped her nose. “I just have to find him. I haven’t seen him in two days.”

“He’s in the green room now,” Patrick said helpfully and started to stand. He held his hands out to her to help her do the same. She took them and stood. Patrick wrapped her in another hug.

“It doesn’t mean you will never find love again, Nyssa,” he said over her shoulder. She nodded but didn’t care.

“Maybe you should wait until after,” he said just before she was going to leave. She turned back again. “This is a big ceremony, Nyssa. Uncommon. Everyone will be there and you have a role to play too, although just standing there mostly, but he will say his oath to you directly and that has got to be hard. You have to accept him. Without considering ‘complications,’ I bet it will be an emotional exchange.”

Nyssa thought about that, but then she shook her head. She came back toward Patrick and leaned up to kiss his cheek, grateful for his honest council and his willingness to see how important it was to her.

“We both know already,” she said. “I know, Jara. He will want it clear between us that he takes this oath in full compliance with the law. No complications. He won’t do it otherwise. It will be better, for both of us,” she said and she turned and left him.

Nyssa had to stop herself from running when she left Patrick’s room.

“Princess Nyssa!” A voice called out her name. She looked back and nearly skidded to a halt. One of the maids was approaching her, waving a finger.

“You must dress! The ceremony will start in an hour!” she said and tried to grab her arm. Nyssa looked back down the hall and nearly jerked away from the maid in frustration.

She’d forgotten she’d need to be officially ‘Princess Nyssa’ for this, not just a knight. Her father would have her in full royal regalia. Knowing that she was expected to comply, she gritted her teeth and nodded to the woman.

She was led to her bedroom, stripped of the bits of her armour she hadn’t bothered to remove in her haste to get to the palace and shown to a bath. Nyssa wasn’t interested in the frivolity of the gowns or the jewellery. She stood in complete silence while the maids swirled around her, tying her into a tight bodice, pulling laces so she could barely breathe, braiding her hair and piling it high on her head and then placing her crown, which she hadn’t seen in nearly four years. As a final touch, the maid placed her mother’s leaf carved ruby around her neck.

Nyssa didn’t recognize the woman standing in the mirror in front of her. She was regal, grown, and Nyssa never felt that way. She snapped back when the maid handed the other her sword and belted it across the long velvet gown at the waist with a gold belt and scabbard. She felt the weight of it and was more comfortable.

“Can I go?” she said impatiently and the two maids curtsied, but the eldest tried to call out to her to wait for her uncle to send word. Nyssa only caught the last at the door.

The green room was a small anti-chamber to the Crown Hall, the throne room. It was used by the royal family, regency and dignitaries as a dressing and preparation room before entering the hall itself. It housed the crown jewels, the large, jewelled sashes of the regent’s office and a number of other traditional items too cumbersome to cart around every time a ceremony or hall function took place. Nyssa’s little crown was her own, so it was stored in her room.

When she reached the outer door, she leaned against it with her ear. She heard no sound, so she cracked it a bit and peeked inside. She saw him standing at the window, the room lit only with a few lanterns, so it was mostly dark, just bright enough to see him. She didn’t hear anyone else. She was startled and somewhat alarmed.

“Jara!” she whispered loudly and didn’t wait for him to reply. She squeezed through the door and shut it behind her, careful not to make any noise. With her back to it, she saw him turn slowly around to look at her. Her heart was in her throat. She didn’t want to leave the door. He looked like she’d never seen him before.

Jara was dressed in full armour and then some. He had the standard body plates and mail, but added were ceremonious pieces, a larger gorget, longer gauntlets etched in gold inlay and a dark and floor-length cloak. She felt he probably couldn’t move, but he was magnificent and formidable to her all at once.

“Have you been here all this time?” she whispered to him; she felt the tremor in her voice. He didn’t answer her. “I have been looking for you. I have been worried about you!”

“I have been here,” he said calmly. “Waiting for you, I guess,” he said finally.

Nyssa moved from against the door. She went up to him and realized, with his added height to hers, the armour was blocking her from getting to his face to kiss him.

“What is all this?!” she said, controlling the sound of her voice but not the tone. She touched his breastplate but couldn’t find a way around it. Jara just seemed to look at her.

When she saw his eyes, she panicked. All her strength to do what they’d agreed – what they’d been told was right - to leave him from her heart, to never seen him as hers again vanished like a vacuum. Crushing defeat stood in its place.

“No!” she whispered harshly to him. “NO!”

“Nyssa,” he said warningly after she turned away from him and was almost back out the door.

“NO! I won’t accept you! I won’t accept you!” she almost said too loudly. Jara moved to her quickly, clinking surprisingly not a lot, and took her wrist in his gloved hands because she was resisting him.

“I won’t! You can’t make me. YOU CAN’T!” she nearly screamed at him and was pulling away from him hard. She didn’t care who heard and if it was her father, she would welcome it. She could tell him directly she wouldn’t accept him.

“Nyssa!” Jara hissed her name and shook her hard to get her attention. She glared at him, but she stopped.

“Did you read them?? Did you? We can’t be together, not even in secret! They would ruin us both. I say we don’t give them that chance. Don’t do it, Jara. Refuse!! I will refuse to accept you; we can leave it all. Just you and me!” she said, but she was rapidly losing her control.

“I have read it. It was read to me, in fact,” he said a bit angrily. He still held her wrist tightly. “But I will not let you abandon everything you have worked for!!” he replied, working to sound reassuring but she struggled hard and his grip tightened. She could tell he was angry about it, just as much as her. Angrier than she had ever seen him before.

“Maybe we could try to be happy, but we never would be! Everything we’ve worked to be is right in front of us, Nyssa!! You will never be happy without your sword and you are a Princess! I will never be happy without mine, without a vocation, without a purpose! We would be lying to ourselves, we would be denying all that we’ve accomplished!”

“I am not enough!” she said and she was crying openly.

“You are everything!!” he said through clenched teeth and he shook her again. Nyssa was giving up and when he shook her this time, she was more a doll than a hardened opponent. He loosened his grip but held onto her.

“I will ALWAYS want you,” he breathed into her face. “But I will bear that the rest of my days if by my life you can lead and live unharmed. It’s what I swore, Nyssa. It’s what we have to do. I will keep you safe! I will be there for you, always! I love you, Nyssa, and that is my oath!” he said pleadingly, inches from her face now so she could see it in his eyes.

Nyssa let one of her fists loosen and a small glass object caught the light and likewise his attention. He turned to look at it and saw a small blue glass bottle slipping from her hand. He looked quickly back to her and he saw she had given up.

“What is it?!” he growled, shaking her in sudden panic. The bottle fell from her hand. “Tell me what it is! It better not be poison, Nyssa…” but she shook her head slowly. He let her down then, feeling her legs folding underneath her. He bent to let her sit on the floor. Nyssa fell back against one of the chairs in the room. Jara picked up the bottle and thrust it in her face.

“What is it?” he repeated his question.

“The tincture,” she whispered and he froze, his face softening instantly. He stared back at it. “Two drops before…” she was saying, but her eyes had unfocused and she stared at the far wall.

Jara was completely disarmed. It was difficult to move in the suit. He pulled hard on the gauntlets and shook them off. When he was free, he grabbed her face in both of his hands. She didn’t seem to want to talk to him anymore. Careful not to crush her, he leaned over and kissed her fully.

She responded at last. When he looked at her again, her eyes were watery, tears wobbling at the edge.

“I won’t ever stop loving you, Jara,” she said. “I promise you that.”

“Me either,” he said in defeat and looked down between them.

“How do we live with that?” she said and her face was heartbreakingly sad. He felt the tears well in his own eyes.

“As a tribute to each other,” he said quietly and reached to wipe a stray tear that had broken free, his touch so gentle it felt like a whisper on her skin. It was silent in the room. “We are the only ones who will know what this has truly cost us. I will not soon forget it, nor will I let anyone else,” he said firmly. She watched him and reached up to touch his face in return.

They heard movement outside the doors, but they didn’t rush when they stood up. Several times, Nyssa stole kisses and Jara stopped them completely more than once to kiss her more fully and longer. Each time they broke, they started their new selves again.

She helped him with his gauntlets and he her train on her gown. She went to the table and lifted his helmet. He stood at the door and they faced each other, she not wanting to give it to him. The door to the Crown Hall swung suddenly open and Brack almost bashed into them walking in. He halted and stepped back.

“OH! There you both are! I thought we’d have to send out scouts! Well, come on. We’re ready to begin, damn it!” He turned and left without an answer.

Nyssa handed Jara his helmet, knowing she would have to go out and stand beside her father first. He would walk the aisle alone to kneel before her.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered to him, her words empty.

“I can’t either,” he repeated, knowing it was foregone but hearing her say it reassured him, they were together on this, they would support each other. He tried to smile at her. “It’s going to be okay, Nyssa,” he added. She looked up and nodded to him, unable to be that brave herself. She reached up, cupping his face and he leaned into it. Then she let go and walked out the door.

The court watched her walk up the aisle alone and Nyssa truly felt that way. She was right back where she started four years ago: in the overwhelming presence of her father and his expectations and so truly alone she didn’t know even who she herself was again or what she was meant to be.

Nyssa slowly climbed the three deep stairs and moved to stand at the right hand of her father. Brack stood directly behind him to his left in bright white armour, holding the pennant of his office and the crest of his monarch. She had watched Jara, armoured to the teeth, helmet on, approach, remove his helmet, kneel in front of the king and repeat words spoken first by Brack. Nyssa heard not one syllable. She heard her own name and she responded.

The room was jammed with people, soldiers, staff. The presiding officials, including her father, were dressed in high formal attire. It was a big deal. Nyssa hated every minute of it, not able to feel any joy in the significant achievement of her friend as she stared down the death of her true love.

When it was completed, Nyssa was meant to give Jara a ring with his office insignia on it, a symbol for everyone who met him to know who he was: her voice in her absence, her representative, her shield, her herald. She put it on his hand, on the left baby finger. She said nothing more. The room applauded loudly and Jara, smiling, took the pennant with Brack, shook hands and moved up the dais to stand behind Nyssa. Madras had a few words of inspiration and then it was concluded. She moved elegantly down the aisle on the arm of her father, followed directly by Brack and Jara, disappearing in the green room.

Nyssa expected to round on her father to tell him how he’d hurt her, but she never got the chance.

“Make ready yourselves,” he said and was already removing his crown and other ceremonial pieces. “We leave at first light.”

“Leave?” she blurted out. “For where?”

“Eastern Highlands,” he replied. She was about to ask more, but he moved over to Jara and put his hand on his shoulder. “My daughter is to be protected at all times, Jara. When we face battle, if it comes to it, I will expect your life be given in place of hers.”

Nyssa was horrified. Not only was it rude, but it was distinctly not Orak to assume someone else die for you.

“It is what I understood my role here to be, Sire,” Jara replied without hesitation. Her father nodded in satisfaction.

“Make your arrangements. Light is a few hours away,” he said and left.