“No, it doesn’t excuse it at all. But it does make this rebellion more of a threat. People will do anything when they’re afraid like this. What I saw today was… unfathomable. Horrifying. And I hate that they got away with even a single petal of thayar after learning what they use it for. But you should have told me what I was walking into, the danger I was putting Silene and Fionn in. You let me assume they were harmless farmers playing at rebellion. Silene went into that meeting unarmed, for aethers-sake. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into today.” His eyes storm with fury, and I realize our bodies are only inches apart, the wind whipping Hawthorne’s black hair out of place. His jaw feathers with his rage, and an involuntary desire to soothe the quivering muscle overcomes me. Instead, I step back, keeping my icy rage firmly in place.

“I won’t apologize for doing what any ruler would do in my situation. I provided you with the information you needed to complete the mission. No more, no less,” I say firmly, pushing down the guilt at putting Silene—putting them all—in danger with no warning. Hawthorne only scoffs and turns away from me. I’m about to follow him, to close that distance again, but Silene’s hand on my arm cools my temper slightly.

“Laurel, we wanted to leave and warn you. But we were being watched. There was no way to get to you and keep up the ruse. It was a tough call that Thorne had to make,” she tries to soothe.

I jerk my arm from her touch. I don’t want to be made to feel better about this, not when I’m still so angry and so guilty and so unsure about what the right call is regarding them. Hurt flashes through her eyes, but I ignore it, not willing to examine any feelings I might have other than rage.

“You made the wrong call,” I sneer at Hawthorne, who turns back to face me with an incredulous expression. More lightning streaks across the room of the ceiling, and he surrounds us in mist, making us invisible to Fionn and Silene. Once again, the casual display of so much power makes something buried deep in me respond, but I ignore it.

“I made the long-term, strategic call. You’re short-sighted, Laurel, and it shows,” he says with so much haughty arrogance that I want to slap the confidence off his face. The space between us has once again been closed, though I’m unsure who stepped closer. His jaw clenches and unclenches as I stare daggers into his eyes. I feel his breath dance across my face, and the sensation sends goosebumps to my arms that I ignore.

“Short-sighted? How is not wanting hundreds of my people to die and even more injured short-sighted?” I ask, my own incredulity apparent in my voice.