“It is not argument to discuss—”

“Alexeika,” he said sharply, “if you want me to be your king, then let me lead.

Let me make the decisions.”

She jumped to her feet. “Are you ever willing to be counseled in anything?”

“Are you ever willing to accept it when I do not want such counsel?”

“Why do you reject advice that is wise and sound?”

“Learn to be rejected,” he replied harshly. “Learn to be quiet.” Her cheeks grew red. Standing there with her long legs braced apart and her hands resting on her hips, she fumed visibly. “I am only telling you what my father would tell you. I suppose that were he alive, you would pay heed to him.” “I thought we had this settled,” he said in annoyance.  “I have seen you fight as no other man can fight,” she said furiously. “Why, then, do you turn coward whenever joining your army is mentioned? What’s amiss with you?”

Had she been a man, he would have struck her for that. As it was, he glared at her with such heat he thought the top of his head might explode. Somehow he held on to his temper and drew in several deep breaths until he thought he could control his voice.

No doubt she thought he wasn’t going to answer, for she continued: “Or is it Lady Pheresa’s plight that keeps your wits bound in a knot? Can’t you think of anything else? What about your kingdom? What about the people’s suffering? You think the Chalice will heal your lady love, but what about—” “Enough!” he broke in. “You seem to have certain expectations of me, of what I will do, of how I will act. And when I do not conform, you shriek at me like a fishwife.”

Her mouth opened, but he held up his hand to silence her.

“Hear me! There can be but one king, one leader. The rest must be followers!”