"So tell me, Hugo, if the person we need isn't you, who could it possibly be?"
Ashlynn's question hung heavy in the air, and Hugo had no easy answer for it.
Unconsciously, his hand drifted to the polished bone hilt of the knife Jalal had given him, finding comfort in the blade that bore the mark of the First Warrior on its sheath.
He could feel the eyes of the room weighing down on him, and in the back of his mind he could all but hear the whispers of countless noblemen and women wondering why he would turn down one of the highest offices in the Bloodroot Empire, one that would grant him unrivaled access to the empresses and the rulers of the different regions of the empire.
Hugo closed his eyes, pushing all of the noise away as he tried to find a real answer to Ashlynn's question.
Looking back, moments in his life lit up like stars in the sky or stepstones on a path, each one leading him to this moment.
