He rubbed his temples like they were giving him a headache.

Saxony had rarely felt so chastened, even by her amja, who made a sport out of guilting her.

“I just meant that my amja is the Liege,” she said. “So you should speak to her.”

“I’m speaking to you.”

“My amja is—”

“Not you,” Wesley finished.

He looked over to Saxony’s amja, who was watching the whole affair with still eyes and a look on her face that Saxony rarely saw: curiosity. Interest.

As a child, Amja was the person who Saxony saw as most certain in her life, most unwavering and, if she was being honest, unwilling to compromise, but now her grandmother looked at Wesley like he might just stand a chance at being heard.

“I’m not trying to offend you,” he said. “But Saxony has great power and she led the Crafters back when we first went against Ashwood. It’s because of her that the other Lieges from Kins across the realms have joined with us. She can unite people in a way that I don’t think you’re capable of.”

“You think I’m not capable of leading my people?” Amja asked.

“I think you’re too scarred by the past to see the future clearly,” Wesley said.

Amja blinked and her eyebrows furrowed together ever so slightly, and for some reason that made a sudden panic shoot through Saxony.

He’d offended her.

“Wesley,” Saxony said.

It was one thing for her to insult her amja, but another thing entirely to hear someone else do it.

“You need to respect how things work,” Saxony said. “You’re way out of line.”

“No.” Amja’s voice was soft as the breeze. “He isn’t. He has wisdom.”

“Wisdom,” Saxony repeated.

“I can see what he has seen in you,” Amja said. “I have seen your bravery and your determination, Saxony. And most of all, your ability to look past what others want and see what is needed for the realms.”

“You just said you were angry that I went behind your back and summoned the other Lieges,” Saxony said.

Amja shook her head and stepped toward Saxony, taking her hands in hers. “I’m not angry with you,” she said. “I’m angry with myself for refusing to listen.”

She stroked Saxony’s cheek.

“My dear child,” she said. “This is your path. Your judgment gave us an army of Crafters and Lieges who helped protect us in the forest. And your power, your fierceness, helped quell the tornado and the magic that tried to attack us.”

Saxony’s heart drummed fiercely against her chest, but she tried to stifle it, not daring to let her hopes get too high.

“Are you saying that you want me to be Liege?” Saxony asked.

She had to be certain.

She had to make sure she was hearing right.