by R. J. Larson
“Of course, sir,” Faine said as the others nodded agreement. “We hope you may trust us.”
Watching their faces carefully, Akabe said, “Ela Roeh is now Siphran. She’s highly regarded by our people and used to dealing with extraordinary circumstances. Not least, she’s more dedicated to the Infinite than any lady I’ve ever met. I’d prefer to marry her.”
His council showed surprise, but no opposition. Trillcliff, ever aware of rank, lifted his silver-spiked brows. “The prophet’s place is unique in Siphra. Difficult to dispute, should anyone mention her status. Though she’s not highborn, she’s quite presentable.”
“And,” Piton quipped, “considering her swift actions this morning, sir, no doubt you’d be marrying your antidote to future poisonings.”
Even Trillcliff laughed. But as Akabe enjoyed the joke, it distressed him. Ela deserved better than to be considered a living antidote to future assassination attempts. Would she agree to wed a king?
Tomorrow, he would seek information from someone well-acquainted with Ela.
Then he would visit with his favorite prophet and persuade her to marry him.
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