“It’s my job to protect you—not only as a Cavar, but as your intended consort.” That’s stupid machismo thinking. “And I’m not supposed to protect you in return?” I ask. He blinks. “Well . . . no.” “I’ll never understand you people,” I murmur in frustration. “Yes, you do,” he replies, taking my hand in his. “You live by a code. So do we.” “You know my code?” I ask him. “I’m getting to know it.” “Really?”
