HE DIDN'T know how long Brayden left him sitting there alone, pondering this newest turn and trying to wrap his mind around what it might mean. The wrong fairy tales--except they weren't fairy tales, they were Doctrine, Canon, passed down from the Hand of the Father and directly to the Guild. If anyone had got it wrong, it had to be Brayden, a man who'd been torn from his people before he'd been ordained, before he'd been told what he was and what his purpose was--a man who'd made his purpose the law, protecting the weak and victimized. Should it be a wonder that, when Fate finally showed Brayden his purpose, he'd be conflicted?