Keles’s insides twisted. She knew what the man meant, as much as she had tried to bury that past.

“I’m not her anymore,” she said.

“What did they call you?” this strange priest said, ignoring her protest. Around and around he walked, and she felt like a lamb being prowled by a wolf. “If I remember right, you were ‘the Light of Vallessau,’ were you not?”

She flinched at the title. It had been foisted upon her when she was sixteen, the heroine paladin fighting the invading forces of the empire. She had not gone by that title since her imprisonment and Lycaena’s public execution.

“I forfeited any such title at the forsaking ceremony,” she said.

“And yet now you are here, so very far from Vallessau. Might you explain, Keles? Set my mind at ease?”

Keles met his narrowed gaze with a faint smile.

“I will confess no secrets to a man whose name I do not know. Only a fool would do so under such a disadvantage.”

The priest drew his dagger.

“Are you a fool, Keles?” he asked.

“Do you think me a fool, stranger?”

At last, he smiled. It lit up his narrow face.

“I think you are many things, daughter of Vallessau, but a fool is not one of them.”

He stepped around her and cut the ropes that bound her wrists. The pieces dropped to the dirt floor of the tent. Keles stretched her shoulders as she rubbed at the raw skin. When he curled back around to face her, he dipped his head in apology.

“My name is Eshiel Dymling, faithful servant of our beloved goddess, Lycaena.”

Tradition would have her salute with her sword, then lay the blade flat over her left arm, but she was no paladin, and he no true priest, so instead, she slightly dipped her head in greeting.

“Well met, Eshiel. I must admit, I expected a better welcome when I came to your little camp at the far end of the forest.”

“We must always be watchful for imperial spies. A little silver and an empty belly can loosen the tongues of even the most loyal.”

Now that he had ceased his circling, he faced her directly, arms crossed and openly staring. She felt judged, but was she found worthy, or wanting? And why did she suddenly care?

“Your wrists are freed, and our names are shared,” he said. “We are as equal as we can be, so I ask you again, Light of Vallessau, why have you come to my village?”

Voicing her reasons filled her with embarrassment. Childish, delusional hopes, yet here she was, two weeks of hard travel into the northern reaches of Thanet, through the Cliffwoods, to an unremarkable little camp lost amid the trees. All for a fool’s hope. All for a dream that could not be real. But oh, what a dream it was…