The vulnerability left Thorda. Hardness replaced it, and he glared at Rayan for broaching such a topic.

“I need a year, perhaps two, before Cyrus is ready to fight alongside my daughters,” he said, ignoring the question. “His growth over these past three months has been extraordinary. Hold faith in him, paladin. Is that not what you are meant for?”

“I hold faith in my goddess alone.”

“And how fares the goddess’s faith in Vallessau? You attack my part in our plans, yet what of the responsibilities you shoulder?”

It was Rayan’s turn to stand. He would retreat from no challenge, no matter who offered it. Alliya’s sickly cough echoed in his ears as he spoke, and he did his best to ignore it.

“The Lioness inspires faith in Endarius. My prayers and teachings keep alive hope in Lycaena. Yet we both preach belief in dead gods, while the priests of the Uplifted Church spread the message of a living God-Incarnate. It is a losing battle, and will be until we can banish the empire from our shores.”

“Then it is good Cyrus’s training progresses so well.”

Rayan closed the distance between them. He couldn’t make an enemy of Thorda, not when the man’s coin and connections were so vital. And as much as he hated to admit it, he could not neglect the spiritual nature of his calling by remaining here in the mansion as Cyrus’s trainer. Thorda would get his chosen fighter, molded exactly in his desired image. That didn’t mean he had to like it, nor that he would leave without one last warning.

“My family has served the Lythan family for centuries,” he said. “We have fought, bled, and died protecting their honor. The last of that bloodline resides under your roof while I serve my goddess in Vallessau. Train him. Better him. But do not ruin him. You would craft a weapon. I would return to find a prince.”

“They can be one and the same,” Thorda said softly.

“You forget which one matters more.”

“And which one is that, paladin? What do the people cry out for when their land is conquered, a crown, or a killer?”

“They cry out for salvation,” Rayan answered.

“And salvation is what I shall give them, but it must come at the bloody edge of a blade.”

The effects of Mari’s prayers were already showing on Cyrus when Rayan hugged him goodbye early the next morning. The splint was gone, replaced with a tight cloth wrapping.

“Stay strong,” Rayan said as they broke their embrace. “Whatever Thorda throws at you, I have full confidence you can rise above it. Make this old man proud.”

Cyrus grinned at him.

“This little boy will do his best not to disappoint.”

Rayan took his seat beside Mari. On the opposite side of the carriage, Stasia and Clarissa finished their goodbyes, and the tiny red-haired woman climbed in to join them.