Freedom meant she could refuse, could walk away. It meant treating her as an ally rather than a convenient asset.
But an alliance was what he needed. She'd already proven her value during the crisis.
"Within reason," he said slowly. "The timeline for this crisis doesn't allow for?—"
"I understand urgency." She cut him off.
The temperature dropped several degrees.
She either didn't notice or didn't care. "But I won't be kept locked in chambers or dragged around like baggage. I need to be able to move freely in your domain, make decisions about my own safety."
He exhaled through his nose. "Agreed."
"And protection." Her chin lifted. Defiance masking vulnerability. "If I'm going to be working with magic that makes me valuable, I need guarantees that I won't end up dead because someone decides I'm a threat."
His shadows drifted toward her before he could stop them. The thought of someone targeting her triggered an unexpected surge of protective anger.
He reminded himself that she was just a necessary asset.
His shadows disagreed. They wanted to wrap around her, shield her, and ensure nothing could reach her without going through him first.
"You'll have my protection and political backing with the other courts," he said.
"What about practical details?" All business now. "What exactly are you asking me to do? How dangerous is it? What happens if I can't fix whatever's broken?"
She negotiated as if she knew her own worth, holding her ground even when facing him.
He found himself respecting that.
"You'd help me investigate other ward-lock sites," he said. "Identify sabotage, attempt repairs where possible. As for danger..." His shadows rippled. "Considerable. Ward magic at this level can kill if mishandled."
She looked down, teeth catching her lower lip.
"Anything else?" he asked.
"That's it." Her eyes met his directly. "I help because I choose to, I'm protected while I do it, and I know what I'm getting into before it tries to kill me."
Cleaner than he'd expected. She wasn't asking for things he couldn't give. Just respect her choices and acknowledge the risks.
"Agreed," he said.
The acknowledgment seemed to surprise her. Her guarded expression softened, and he caught a glimpse of relief she couldn't quite hide.
"So we have a partnership?" she asked.
"We have an alliance," he corrected. The distinction mattered. "Temporary, until the crisis is resolved."
"An alliance." She tested the word, then nodded. "What happens now?"
"Now," he said, moving toward the shelves, "your education begins."
But as he reached for a text, he reconsidered. She would be useless if she collapsed from exhaustion. The crisis was urgent, but running her into the ground served no one.
"Tomorrow," he corrected himself. "Your education begins tomorrow."
She blinked. "Tomorrow?"
"You're exhausted. Trying to absorb magical theory in your current state would be inefficient." He turned toward the door, then paused. Extending invitations wasn't something he did. Orders came naturally. Asking felt foreign. "When did you last eat?"
