"It isn't the first time people have cursed my nerves," Basil said, squaring his shoulders and rising to his full height. He barely reached the Prince's neck.
There were times Alpheo admired the boy for the raw, unpolished courage he himself had lacked at that age, but this was not one of those moments.
"If it weren't for my nerves, I wouldn't have dared enter your work-room that day," Basil challenged, his eyes locked onto his father's.
Alpheo fell silent. He had to concede that much. The boy had a spine of Yarzat oak, even if his arms were still made of soft willow.
"Visiting a man who has had a cup too many is one thing, Basil," Alpheo said, his tone flat and iron-hard, brooking no room for defiance. "Raising hell to join a war you have no part in is quite another."
"But Ratto—"
