How could he let me go? I was only safe in his service, only useful as his tool. Freed of that service, I was a danger, must be branded an enemy. I understand him now, his desperation. He was trying to save my life. The Chantry had wanted me destroyed—dissected, possibly—since my knighting after Vorgossos. In anointing me one of his Royal Victorians, the Emperor had cast a cloak of protection over me the Chantry might challenge only in private.
