Father Zajhera waved a hand. “I know how idorrá and thudajé work, my dear. Kalazan is your man. You rule Tolamer—”

“Oreth would disagree.”

“Until Sir Oreth finds a way to strip your title, you’re the Count of Tolamer. And what happens, my sweet girl, when you walk into the duke’s palace, explain the danger to him, and he … dismisses the threat?”

“He won’t do that,” I protested.

“Oh, but he will. Because barring the last Hellmarch, Jorat has known peace for almost a hundred years. Your young Duke Xun cannot even begin to imagine how quickly that can change. He’ll think you’re trying to live up to your sobriquet, Janel Danorak, riding out to warn the dominion. He’ll decide you’re overwrought, upset about your grandfather’s death, looking for an angle in your feud against Oreth Malkoessian. He’ll dismiss your concerns as nothing but a young girl who thinks she’s a stallion, when she should have accepted her place as a mare. And what will you do then?”

I froze in horror as his words sank into my soul. No. No, that couldn’t be …

I shuddered. “I need to stop Relos Var. I must stop Relos Var! The town at Tiga Pass is gone, Father. Coldwater is gone. How many more towns will vanish as Mereina has? How many more will die?”

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “And have you given any thought to what it will mean when you are the one saving these towns, banners, and cantons? When you save them, even as their rulers dismiss the threat? How will Duke Xun react when his people owe you more thudajé than they owe him?”

The blood fled from my face as I finally understood his meaning. In my eagerness to do the right thing, to stop these demons and these madmen, I had forgotten the most fundamental rule in Joratese politics.

What you protect is what you rule.

“I would—” I swallowed. “I would do it in the duke’s name. He’d take credit for any defense I offered.”

He nodded. “A commendable plan, assuming Duke Xun is smart enough to recognize your loyalty. We shall see, won’t we?” He extended his arm around me. “I have always known how special you are, Janel. Once, you led an army across Jorat—”

I made a noise, half protest, half whimper. “No, I didn’t. Xaltorath—”

“She didn’t pick you by chance. Oreth’s mistake—the same mistake his father, Aroth, is making, the same mistake Duke Xun will make—is to see you as inferior, someone over whom they hold idorrá. Bride, vassal, supplicant, submissive. And it’s not true. Mark my words, my daughter—before this is done, you will lead an army across Jorat again. Your idorrá will cover this whole empire, and Quur will bow before you.”