Hawthorne’s too-handsome face returns to my mind. The way he’d exuded dangerous fury yesterday makes my blood heat, and it only confuses me more. I’ve reached the point where I promised myself I’d take action against the Velmarans. They’ve met the rebellion’s leaders and identified a location where they meet. They’ve given me names and even faces of the rebellion leader and his inner circle. They’ve discovered the one thing I’ve been trying desperately to conceal. I should get rid of them now, like I always planned, like Nemesia insisted. But then that face pops into my mind again, and the idea of killing him makes me nauseous. But if I’m honest with myself, I never really believed I would kill them. I had alternatives I would have used, like using the aether-voice to force them to forget. Right?

That uncertainty about myself and my intentions makes me spiral again. How could I have considered killing the only three people from outside of Thayaria who have ever offered me friendship? How could I consider not killing them when they’re my enemy, when my only true friend told me to eliminate the threat the moment they learned too much? My head throbs with indecision and uncertainty about the best course of action. Despite all my best efforts to keep them at arm’s length, I’ve grown close to the Velmarans. I might even like them, or at least like Silene. Not to mention whatever is going on between me and Hawthorne. But he’s engaged, to the one person I can admit I like, and I’ve been shamelessly flirting with him. Am I failing my people by keeping them here, by allowing them to get closer and closer to me? Should I send them back to Velmara and deal with the consequences?

There’s a resounding answer that rings loudly in my head, in the place in my chest where I feel my magic.

No.

I promised Hawthorne the opportunity to prove himself to me. I owe him longer to show that he can be fully trusted. He’s done nothing to make me doubt him, and all I’ve done is look for his flaws, for any sign he isn’t telling the truth about his intentions. Despite our flirty banter, I haven’t really given him the chance I said I would give him. Sure, I’ve let him meet with the rebels. But when it really mattered, I kept critical information from him and exploded in rage when he made the only choice he could in an awful situation.

Tears run down my cheeks again, despite doing everything I can to lock them away. I hiccup and gasp for breath. Closing my eyes, I take more deep breaths to calm my raging emotions.