Three days.
Three days since the blessed one had humiliated him in front of both tribes.
Three days since Roshan had let it happen.
Three days of whispers and sideways glances and barely-concealed mockery.
Darius sat alone in his dwelling, staring at nothing, replaying the moment over and over in his mind like a wound he couldn't stop picking at.
"You will apologize. Publicly."
Her voice. That damned blessed one's voice, calm and cold and utterly certain of her authority. Authority she shouldn't HAVE. Authority Roshan had given her by not putting her in her place.
And he'd done it.
Gods, he'd actually done it.
Bowed his head.
Said the words.
"I apologize."
In front of everyone.
Two hundred sixty years of service. Two hundred sixty years of fighting, bleeding, EARNING his position in this tribe. Wars Roshan had never seen. Battles that cub of a chief couldn't even imagine.
