Pretty stupid,” I called after his retreating form. “To give up before all possible solutions have been tried.

Do you really want to know why you lost?” I asked.
“Do you really have an answer?” he countered.
“You need to get off your horse and run with your men. You don’t have the stamina for a long fight. And find a lighter sword.”
“But it was my uncle’s.”
“You’re not your uncle.”
“But I’m the King, and this is the King’s sword,” Cahil said. His brows creased together. He seemed confused.
“So wear it to your coronation,” I said. “If you use it in battle, you’ll be wearing it to your funeral,” I said.

I found Esau’s field guide at the bottom of my pack. Taking a candle into the bedroom, I read his book until my eyes grew heavy. From his vast notes, it seemed that almost every plant and tree in the jungle had a reason for existing.
I caught myself wishing there was a page in his guide that had my picture on it with the reason for my existence written underneath in Esau’s neat hand.

Unfortunately, diplomacy was a dance I needed to learn.

I wanted to dissolve into the floor, mixing myself with the hard stone. A stone had a single purpose: to be. No complicated promises, no worries and no feelings.

I gave him a bored look. I had been threatened many times before and had learned that the men who didn’t make verbal threats were the most dangerous.