Vera remained as if the ice from the mountains had come down to contain her. Even though the prince stood without helmet before her, the knife in her hand would not be lowered just yet. She felt, in the very pit of her stomach, that the Prince was speaking the truth. Still, her dark eyes held a dangerous light as she looked over the men with Carrda. The best men did not always mean loyal men. She would not set down her guard, not yet.
"I am an ambassador and a defender, both of this treaty and Princess Cithia. If there was any nonsense associated with my name, your highness, it was lost in the numerous betrayals we've experienced on this journey."
She straightened and turned the knife in her hand toward the ground. There was no semblance of a smile on her face. A fight here and now would be gritty and terribly violent, if it occurred.
"I do not fear arrows, not for what rushing after you might cost us. I would ask you to swear...but I have a Princess who has lost a great deal of faith in what we are trying to accomplish. Men of Malondir and Astora have come for her life. Your Galatin was one of them."
Vera had yet to look back at the wagon, but she hoped the Lady Cithia could hear them. She hoped she was paying close attention. However risky it was to remain in the open as they were, Vera felt it was worth it. There was too much riding on the mentalities of these young people. And she wanted to know the weight of this Prince Carrda now because she was tired of nonsense. The men with him seemed offended that Vera did not instantly accept his words.
It wasn't in her job description to grovel.
"So what do you say to her Prince, Sword of Astora? She is the reason I am here at all. Make her believe in you and we will go wherever you like."