"Most worthwhile things are."
I rest my head against his uninjured shoulder, breathing him in. "We could lose everything."
"We already have everything to lose. Might as well go down fighting."
A laugh escapes me. "When did you become the optimistic one?"
"When I realized I'd rather die free and in love than live as livestock."
The words hang in the air between us. In love. He said it so casually, like it was obvious, like we both already knew.
Maybe we did.
"Oliver..."
"Don't." He tilts my face up, his eyes intense. "Don't say anything yet. Wait until after tomorrow. Wait until we've faced the council and whatever comes next. Then, if we're both still standing, we'll talk about what we are. What we want. All of it."
"And if we're not both still standing?"
"Then at least we tried." He kisses me. "At least we fought for it."
I kiss him back, pouring everything I can't say into it. Fear and hope and something that feels dangerously close to love.
When we finally break apart, I rest my forehead against his. "Tomorrow then."
"Tomorrow," he agrees.
CHAPTER TEN
PRIMSYN
Morning comes too soon. We're both still awake, having spent the night in tense silence, our bodies tangled together like we could anchor each other against what's coming.
"We should prepare," I say, though I don't move.
"Yeah." Oliver's arm tightens around my waist. "We should."
Neither of us moves.
Finally, I force myself to sit up, wincing as my sprained ankle protests. Oliver's shoulder is stiff and painful; I can tell by the careful way he moves. We're both injured, exhausted, and about to walk into the most important confrontation of our lives.
"I need to send word to the council," I tell him. "Request an emergency session. If we're doing this, we do it right. Official."
"Will they grant it?"
"They have to. I'm a widow of a former council member. I have the right to request a hearing." I stand, testing my weight on my ankle. It holds, barely. "The question is whether Thrain will try to stop it."
"He can't stop it if he doesn't know about it until it's already happening."
"True." I move to the door, then pause. "Oliver, if this goes wrong...if they rule against us?—"
"Then we face it." He stands, crossing to me despite the pain it clearly causes. "No more what-ifs. We committed to this. We see it through."
I nod, drawing strength from his certainty.
Corvask arranges everything with his usual efficiency. By midday, the council is assembled in their chambers. Seven members, including Thrain, all waiting to hear what emergency could possibly require their immediate attention.
I dress carefully in formal attire, every inch the proper widow. Oliver dresses in the finest clothing my household can provide. Not servant's clothes, not livestock clothes. Proper attire for someone who will stand before the council as an equal.
