But then her jaw set, and he knew he'd lost before she even spoke.
"I understand that if we don't try, more people suffer that fate." Her voice was softer now, but no less firm. "Including you, trying to contain the damage alone."
She'd said "including you." Not just the realm, not just the souls.Him.
As though his survival mattered to her beyond practical necessity. As though she'd spent any time considering what would become of her if he didn't return from this repair.
His chest tightened. A fracture in the wall he'd spent centuries building, spreading before he could seal it.
He shoved it aside ruthlessly.This was resource management. Nothing more.
"I've survived field repairs before," he said, voice cold. Distant. The tone he used when establishing proper boundaries. "Your concern is unnecessary."
"Is it?" She took a step closer, bold when his control was barely maintained. "Because even you have limits. And working alone in that..." She gestured toward the window where the yellow light still pulsed. "...will push them."
She had a point.Again.
He would be working at the very edge of his capabilities, racing against time and magical chaos. One error could mean losing not merely the repair but himself to the cascading failure.
And if he fell, no one would remain to keep the barriers stable between life and death.
Yet the thought of leaving her here, waiting and not knowing whether he would return, felt wrong.
Another tremor, stronger than before. Decision made, then.
"If you accompany me..." His voice carried authority now. The tone that made his court tremble. "...you do exactly as I say. No improvising. No testing limits." He moved closer, using his physical presence to emphasize the gravity. "No heroic gestures that complicate an already impossible situation. Is that crystal clear?"
"Understood."
His eyes tightened.
"You're planning to disregard that if you deem it necessary."
She had that look. The one that meant she'd already decided to evaluate the situation herself.
"I'm planning to follow your orders," she said, which wasn't quite a falsehood but wasn't quite the truth either.
They'd reached his study during the argument, her stubbornness carrying her alongside him despite his objections.
He studied her face, searching for uncertainty or false bravado. All he saw was determination that had no business existing in someone so mortal, so fragile, so completely unprepared for what they were about to face.
She was going to be a complication. An enormous complication.
And wasn't that the truth of it? Too late to send her away, too late to maintain proper distance, too late to pretend she was merely another tribute he would eventually kill or discard.
That had changed weeks ago. Perhaps the moment she'd looked at him and refused to flinch.
"Then we leave immediately," he said, voice rough as he turned back to the equipment cabinets. Safer than looking at her. "And hope your beginner's luck doesn't fail you."
He moved, selecting the tools they would require. Specialized containment crystals, emergency ward-repair implements, backup power sources. Each piece of equipment another reminder of how dangerous this would be.
Behind him, he heard her take a steadying breath.
He glanced over his shoulder. She was flexing her hands, a gesture he'd learned meant she was mentally preparing. White traces of magic flickered across her knuckles before fading.
Ready to work. Ready to follow him into magical failure, to confront something that could kill her without hesitation.
Stubborn creature. Reckless. Far too brave for her own good.
