"This plan would never work for me…"
Devlin's hands clenched into fists that were tight enough for his knuckles to turn white, and for a moment, he looked like he was trying to decide whether he should punch Albyn in the face or grab him by the collar to drag him to the Gilded Horns despite his protests. Maybe both.
"Lord Owain intends to name me Knight of Hurel Village during the coronation tomorrow," Albyn said quietly, deliberately ignoring his companion's obvious distress. "If I'm missing when my name is called, it raises questions. Questions that lead to you, and to Jean, and to everyone else who's supposed to be safely out of Lothian by then."
"Hang the questions," Devlin said, though he could already feel the argument slipping away from him.
