“What is it with the Da’Neer men and being amused when women threaten them?” I asked. Kieran snorted, taking my hand and turning me to face him. “It probably has a complicated answer,” he said, carefully taking hold of my crown and lifting it so it didn’t snag in my hair. Neither Casteel nor I would wear our crowns. We would already be targets on the field, and we didn’t need anything making it easier to pinpoint us. “Buried in deeply rooted issues that span many generations.” “I find that deeply offensive,” Casteel remarked, coming to us as I smiled. “Sure, you do.”
