:Aren’t you trustworthy?: Kantor countered. :I know you would be the best person for the task; no one would take it as seriously as you will, because the Heralds all have a blind spot where the safety of Selenay is concerned. They believe that no one realizes that “Trainee Selenay” and the Heir are the same person, which is ridiculous—it’s not exactly a secret, and even if it was, you couldn’t keep information like that secure for very long.:

Not very bright of them. :And just because no one has tried to harm her, no one ever will, hmm?: he replied. :Perhaps it does take someone from outside to see the danger.:

:Too true, I fear. And that isn’t all, of course. You need to see how we work, so to speak, and you’ll learn more from watching a common Herald’s court than you ever would from books.:

:But when the great men find out who it is that is standing guard over their princess—:

:By that time you’ll have proved yourself, and no one will think anything of it.: Kantor sounded very certain of himself; Alberich wasn’t certain of anything except that there would be repercussions.

But who would be the ones facing the repercussions? Not I. No, that would be Dethor—Talamir—

“The King, your father—” he ventured. “Knows he of this?”

“Of course; he was the first one I suggested this to. I suppose you’re ready?” Selenay asked, as calm and casual as if he’d asked what time of day it was.

“Ready?” What was he supposed to be ready for?

“You’re coming down into the city with me, correct? As my bodyguard. You might as well start right now.” She looked him up and down, critically. “That set of Grays should do, I suppose; they don’t look quite like Trainee Grays, but they’ll be all right. Are there any particular weapons you’d like to carry?”

“Weapons I would like to carry?” he repeated, feeling as if he’d been run over by something. “Ah—knives. A sword?”

“Well, let’s get them and get on our way.” Selenay waited for him to collect a set of plain knives and a common sword that he had just finished working on. He’d found them in that shed, and he had liked the balance immediately and had taken extra care with them, rewrapping the grips, cleaning, polishing, and sharpening. They were of sound make and good steel, and if old and much-abused, at least he knew they were in decent shape, with no hidden weakness in tang or blade. And he had never been the sort who got attached to a particular chunk of metal; as far as he was concerned, one blade was as good as another so long as it was balanced and sharp.