“Rowan Whitethorn is a legend. And so is his—what do you call them?”
“Cadre,” she said glumly.
“The six of them …” Aedion loosed a breath. “We used to tell stories about them around fires. Their battles and exploits and adventures.”
She sighed through her nose. “Please, please don’t ever tell him that. I’ll never hear the end of it, and he’ll use it in every argument we have.”