insecurities about your odds of success in the tournament.” “My insecurities?” Vaughn growls, halfway to his feet. “Yes,” I bite out. “And your carelessness. You’ve just questioned, in public, the judgment of the Scion of Arthur himself by suggesting that he brought his Page forth without good reason.” I grin and look Vaughn directly in the eye. “Our future king does not owe you an explanation, and behaving as though he does displays insubordination, disloyalty, and fear. Not power. Not strength. In fact, I pity the Scion who chooses you as their Squire. That is, if you get chosen at all.”
