That Veer was no child.
That he was older than some of them.
That he was the tribe leader, using his own money, playing with danger like he always had.
That this wasn't the first time his life had been on the line.
That it was Veer's father himself who'd ordered them to follow the prince blindly, no questions asked, no matter how reckless.
But of course, none of that mattered here.
No matter how wrong the boss was, the blame always slid downhill. It landed on the ones standing in front of him now.
So they lowered their heads, wings tight to their sides, swallowed their protests, and took it in silence.
Veer's father stared at the line of warriors in front of him and felt his blood pressure go up.
Useless. Every single one of them.
He dragged in a breath through his nose, about to start shouting again, when a careful voice came from the side.
"My lord."
Veer's father turned, already scowling—then had to squint.
The first thing he saw was light.
