[ She swatted his calf in response to his jab. Though it was well within her right to make fun of his age, especially after disparaging her own for being "less accomplished." Her, who had saved their people's children from choking on their own blood. Her, who had broken down lacecap mushrooms to carefully extract that terrible poison-turned-savior. Her, who fought and argued and stood her ground for months to get them to agree to a small amount of the mushroom to avoid the costs of importing. What had he done?

Shout in his sleep.

Cry for the bodies of children long dead.

Failed teacher. Failed magister. Failed archmage. She had been a phoenix, though Anthemis had been lost to her in that same Fall. He was satisfied to be a slave.

But she had woken him from his night terrors, she had been the one to love him and care for him. Even here, where their titles meant less and little. She was used to that. He had no magic here. The more Traejan reasoned, the more she found him to be right.

She hated that her heart and her guts kept twisting in desire to see him. To talk. To rip Lucius's claws out of him. To make him see reason.

To, for once, see her hurt.

Rose took a deep breath through her nose, refusing to let another round of tears fall. She finished the rest of her coffee quickly to avoid it. ]

You're right; it has been.

I'll give it some days and pray he sees reason. Or I shall kill him. One of those two. I'll decide when I've calmed down more. Now, I do believe there's a bourbon in this cabinet, and I should like a lot before I sleep.

[If she slept.]