Edward looked at the princess. At the unwavering conviction in her eyes. And at the tip of her gleaming rapier.
Surrender. The word was alien to him. Every instinct in his body, honed by years of being hunted, screamed against it. To surrender was to die. The "justice of the crown" was a rigged game. A show trial followed by a slow, painful execution.
Yet he saw the necessity of the bargain. This was not a negotiation of terms. It was a test of his character. For her to even consider his warning, to take the monumental risk of aligning herself with the world's most wanted man, she needed a guarantee. She needed to believe he was not the mindless monster the Inquisition painted him to be. She needed to believe he was, at his core, a man who possessed a code.
His own life was a small price to pay for the lives of millions. His vow demanded no less.
"You have my word, Princess," Edward said. His voice was quiet but firm. "When this is over, I will surrender."
