"What do you want? What do you truly desire?"
Her questions took him off guard. He was young, hungry, and dirty when Drake Draconian threw him a sword in the mud. As he fought to raise it, he swore he would live by it, and handling a blade would be the only thing he would ever crave. His oath was already partially broken.
For as long as he could remember, he had dreamed of being a knight. The taste of blood and the sound of metal clashing had become as essential to his survival as breathing. He now felt something more, something unique, something he had never experienced before. He had to reject it, even if it was difficult.
"From you? Nothing," Andrew answered plainly. "I'm just following orders. The King charged me with your safety."
"There's nothing else?" Faith took a step forward toward him. "You don't want anything else from me?"
