“This is not much of a life you have taken me away to,” she mused, “if I must keep running with you. Nor much of a plan.”
“You have a choice, so it’s entirely up to you. I’m a fugitive either way now, so I’m running,” he stated defiantly, taking another swig of the flask before gazing out at the sky before him.
Summer picked up a stick and twisted it in her hands. “What is the worth of swearing fealty to a prince if you cannot rely on him for protection when you need it?” Tossing the stick at him, she picked through her bundle until she found her comb. “Take me to your liege lord, and let us see what he may say.” She parted her hair neatly to either side of her head, the heavy coils gleaming in her lap in the firelight, and began to pull the comb through.