"One cannot be of use to the dead by being alive," Ravus hisses out as they ride. "And my nation will never forgive me that fact. It is not the sons of the line that matter. It was always the daughters of the Nox Fleuret."

And there, he supposes, is that useless secret out in the air between them. Ravus was no mere general being demanded for a hostage exchange. He was a prince, and perhaps key to control being maintained over Tenebrae. No wonder he was so bitter about being turned over to the nation who had been the death of his mother. She had been no incidental lost in the war by accident, she had been actively executed. And his disdain for the Nilfheim superiors had a lot to do with the loss of a sister, not just a rightful queen.