But now he felt lighter than the smallest feather. It was as if he had been washed clean of all that had stained him and been given a chance to become someone new. Someone who lived on his own terms and in his own way. He could become the wise man, the faithful son, the loyal friend. “I would very much like to ride,” he said. Serapio held out his hand. Again, he proffered the golden dagger. And this time, Okoa took it and reverently slipped the cord over his head. “Allies?” Serapio asked, tentative. “No.” Okoa pulled him into an embrace. “Brothers.”
