Phan-tu had never been engaged before. He had never really considered it, even though he knew, eventually, it would be expected. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when, and as he stood and made his way toward Xiri, captain, princess, his betrothed, now seemed as good a time as any. She rose and met him halfway. He unsheathed her bane blade and presented it back to her. She wrapped long fingers etched with thin scars around the hilt and pressed it to her heart, then offered her free hand. “For Eiram,” she said. He felt the barest tremble at her touch. Fear? Hope? And he said, “For E’ronoh.”
