“But I—”

“You have grown up to be unworthy of your mother’s sacrifice,” Kaxiniz said with contempt. “Nereisse never lacked courage. She never told lies, not even to herself. She never evaded her duty.”

“Are you saying I do?”

Kaxiniz said nothing, but the expression in his eyes was damning.  Feeling whipped by the old king’s scorn, Dain stood there with his face on fire and his temper in shreds. He hadn’t come here to be called an immoral coward.  Kaxiniz was a stranger, with no right to judge him.

Except . . . Kaxiniz was his grandfather, and he did have the right to judge.  Feeling ashamed and confused, Dain bowed his head. “I do intend to claim my throne,” he said stiffly, wanting the old eld to understand. “But I have felt it necessary to save Pheresa if I could. I don’t expect her gratitude. I—I know that if she lives she will marry Prince Gavril of Mandria. But why should I let her die, if I could do anything to prevent it?” He looked up, frowning earnestly. “I thought the eldin revered life. Why are you so eager to condemn this young woman? You don’t even know her.”

“I do not judge her. I do not condemn her,” Kaxiniz said. “Her fate lies not in my hands.”

“The eldin are healers,” Dain said, pleading with him. “Can no one try to help her? If not for my sake, then for hers? She is innocent. No enemy of any man.  Why should she suffer? Why should she die because an assassin sought my death?” Kaxiniz stared at him stonily. “You could journey to the pits of hell and beg Ashnod for his dire mercy on her behalf, and it would avail you nothing. There is no cure.”