Sister Belmont followed Big Olrec outside, and they both maintained
a tense silence as they descended from the top of Selena’s Walk to the bottom.
By the time Olrec set his thick, heavy boots onto the sculpted lawns outside
the tower, his breath was rasping; men far younger than he had been known to
retire from campaigning, specifically due to their age, with no shame
whatsoever.
The commander of the Serpent’s Sting, by strictest contrast,
was dead silent. There was no sign that she had just made the same trek as
Olrec had.
“... Why would you go into the Godswake?” she asked, when
the old veteran didn’t move for a long moment—apparently a sign that he was
willing to speak with her.
“I won’t pretend ter know Her Majesty’s political weavin’, so
I wouldn’t guess why we been cast off across the Estron in the first place, but
where would ye think a threat would come from, out there by the cradle?”
“You did it to help Lorat?” Sister Belmont guessed.
“Front lines or no, we’re still the first shield, Missy. O’course
we’d help Lorat. That’s our assignment.”
“I’m sorry. You and Lizzy deserve better than this. But I’m
only one person. They call us the Voice of the Moon. But we aren’t all-powerful. We can’t just ignore the will of the people. And considering ...
what happened ...”
“Let’s not talk about that,” Big Olrec cut in. “It’s nae
important.”
“But ... if not for that ...”
“Milady would’ve died in the Wastes, instead of a forsaken
forest. Ye might think it different, but . . . dead’s dead.”
“But perhaps ... with the rest of us at your back ...
where we should be—”
“Naya. Stop. Don’t ye feel guilty now. There’s nae ye could’ve
done.”
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