Sarai looks at the man above her.
The man who she thought loved her, who wanted to marry her. The man who only cared about her ties to the throne. The man who just stabbed her father.
It is the luarin way that only the men fight; leaving their women safe, protected – weak – behind walls. That is what he sees. A room full of women, their only protector downed by his hand.
Her grip closes on her father's sword.
But the raka were led by warrior queens; and she is half raka. It is time she reminded him of that.