“To warn them?” Darrow asked carefully.
Murtaugh patted the hilt of his sword.
“Aedion and Ren are stretched thin. Kyllian,
too, if you want to keep telling yourself that
he’s the one leading them.” Murtaugh didn’t
so much as lower his chin to Darrow, who
stiffened. “I’ll handle the western wall. And
that siege tower.” A wink at Evangeline. “We
can’t all be brave messengers, can we?”
Evangeline made herself smile, even
though dread pooled in her. “Should—should
I warn Aedion that you’ll be there?”
“I’ll tell him myself,” Murtaugh said, and
ruffled her hair as he walked by. “Be careful
on the ice,” he warned her again.
Darrow didn’t try to stop him as Murtaugh
walked off the battlements. Slow. He looked
so slow, and old, and frail. And yet he kept his
chin high. Back straight.
If she’d been able to choose a grandfather
lily
(lily)
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