Rebellion.
The door opens. Annora slips in, carrying a tray with food I probably won't eat and tea I definitely need.
"You should be resting," I tell her.
"So should you." She sets the tray down and crosses to me. Her hands find my shoulders, and I feel some of the tension bleed out under her touch. "They're already calling you a rebel lord in the taverns. Did you know that?"
"Are they?"
"Mmm. Quite dramatic. Very heroic." I can hear the smile in her voice. "Apparently you broke an unbreakable chain with your bare hands and threatened to slaughter an entire delegation."
"I didn't threaten to slaughter them. I threatened to remove parts of one soldier. There's a difference."
She laughs, and gods, I will never get tired of that sound.
"The men are loyal to you," she says more seriously. "I watched them today. They weren't kneeling out of duty. Theybelievein you."
"They believe in you too."
"Maybe." She moves around to face me, and I pull her between my knees, my hands settling on her hips. "But they're following you into war. That's different."
"I know."
"Are you afraid?"
Honest question. Deserves an honest answer.
"Yes," I tell her. "Not of dying. I've been dying for ten years. But of failing them. Of getting them all killed because I couldn't let you go."
Her hands cup my face. "You're not failing anyone. You're giving them a choice—bow to a crown that sees them as expendable, or stand with a lord who actually values their lives."
"Pretty speech."
"I've been practicing." She kisses me softly. "We're going to win, Vorak."
"How can you be so sure?"
She pulls back enough to meet my eyes, and that golden light pulses gently under her skin.
"Because I've seen what you become when you fight for something you love," she says. "And it's terrifying and beautiful and unstoppable."
She believes it.
Absolutely. Completely.
And maybe that's enough.
I pull her into my lap, and she comes willingly, tucking herself against my chest like she was made to fit there.
"Tell me about the light," I say quietly. "The magic. Do you understand it yet?"
"Not really." She's quiet for a moment. "I can feel it responding to things. To danger. To you. To..." She trails off, and I feel her cheeks heat.
"To what?"
"To how I feel about you," she admits. "When I'm with you, when we're... together... it's warm. Gentle. But when you were cursed, when I thought I'd lose you, it was—"
"Explosive."
