AYLETH
Etan had one arm back to keep her behind him as he stepped up to confront the man. Leashed violence poured off him in waves, as if he were a mere breath away from murder.
And the Clown seemed to know it. He'd dropped all pretense and stood on the balls of his feet, eyes locked on the Prince's.
They were of height, the Prince's shoulders broader, while the older man seemed… harder somehow. She didn't understand the tension between them, why the Prince would allow a common Jester to speak to him that way—or why he would explain himself to the man—yet that was exactly what he did.
"Before you say one more word," Etan said, "I remind you that you vowed to help. You said—"
"And I will. But this? You cannot possibly be certain—"
"I know this like I know my own name. So, either you help me, or break your vow."
"That's… you cannot…"
