““This is what we are for, Alin,” the older guardsman said, turning to his companion. Adare had never heard anyone use Birch’s first name. She hadn’t even known it herself. “Our lives for hers. If she refuses this, there’s no saying what the zealots will do to her.” “There’s no saying what the zealots will do if she agrees,” Birch pointed out. “We can’t save her if we’re dead.” “That is a risk that the princess will have to assess for herself. Our duty is to serve.” “I thought service meant fighting,” Birch protested, but the anger had gone out of him. Resignation thinned his voice. “Sometimes, Alin,” Fulton replied, nodding. “And sometimes it means dying.””
