“Aren’t we, though?” Cyrus crumpled deeper into the iron bench. “The Vagrant is an unstoppable killer that will make the empire pay for its crimes. The Vagrant is ruthless, and savage, and feels no remorse for the blood he spills. But me? The one sitting here now?”

He looked to the stars. His lip trembled, and he swore at himself not to cry.

“I’m an exhausted nineteen-year-old with no family, no throne, and the pressure of an entire nation placed upon his shoulders. I barely sleep, and when I do…” His fist struck his thigh. Why was he admitting these things? Why open himself up to her? Keles didn’t ask for this, any of this, but he couldn’t keep the words in. “Fuck. When I do, I see the boats burning. I see the sword falling. I hear my mother’s scream. This is who I am. The Vagrant is who I must be. Will they ever be the same?”

He fell silent. That was enough, no reason to embarrass himself further. Cyrus bit his lip and stared at the pebbles, pale and pink despite the cool glow of the moonlight. He waited for Keles to say something, anything, and was surprised by how desperately he craved the sound of her voice.

“From the moment of my birth, I was meant to follow in my father’s footsteps,” she said. “They sang me hymns to Lycaena while I yet remained in the womb. Before I was nine, I had memorized the Holy Poetics. I trained in both sword and shield, all so I might protect Thanet’s throne, and your family’s claim to it. And then came those boats. Then fell the sword.”

It was her turn to look to the stars.

“I told myself these were the troubled times that our priests and priestesses feared. The ending of days, during which the most faithful of Lycaena and Endarius would rise up to destroy the evil that had come to our shores. I believed it, Cyrus, believed it so fiercely, I tore through imperial patrols with a blade gleaming with light and power. I was two years younger than you are now, but the remnants of Thanet’s military viewed me as their finest warrior. I was the hero of their stories, the daughter of murdered parents and a captured goddess who would avenge terrible wrongs. I was their hope then, the same as you are their hope now.”

Cyrus wished he could have seen Keles in such glory. His duels against Rayan had taught him the potential power of a paladin, and if she were his finest pupil, she must be equally dangerous.