It pains me to admit that I’ve thought about that very plan. “I considered it. But while the leaders of the rebellion may be corrupt, many of the people who have joined them are just scared citizens. The rebellion has offered them hope. If I kill the dozens or hundreds who are in Oakton, more will rise with even more hatred in their hearts. My actions would only make them more dangerous.” He nods, and I continue, words—deeply buried truths—leaving my mouth unbidden. “But even more deadly than an ignited and hateful rebellion is a version of me who has crossed that line. I’m in a constant state of fear of who I could become if I truly let myself enact retribution.” I wring my hands, unsure why I’m telling him this. “This much power… it weighs on you. I don’t want to become the villain your father has painted me to be, no matter how much I might lean into that persona at times.” What I don’t admit, not yet, is that I also don’t know how much magic is too much for me to yield without impacting Thayaria. If I slip and overdo it, the consequences could be catastrophic.

I lower my eyes, but Thorne puts his finger under my chin and pulls my gaze to his. I get lost in the verdant pools that stare back at me.

“Laurel, you are the most conscientious and caring monarch I’ve ever met. Granted, I’ve only met you and my father, but still.” He grins, and my stomach flips low in my gut. I chastise myself. Thorne releases me and steps back, a seriousness coming over him again. “If you insist on this plan to make yourself bait, at least let me keep training you. Light is a powerful magic the rebels won’t have. It can help you defend yourself without resorting to just… poofing the weapons and people around you.”

I snort. “Poofing?”

“Yes, poofing.” He draws out the word and flings his hand around in the air. “What you did yesterday and during the last attack. You make things disappear, which I still want to know about, by the way. And don’t pretend like you didn’t consider just poofing the rebels in that room when you first got there. You have brute force, but I can teach you finesse.” His eyes sparkle with innuendo. I have so many retorts to his words, but I bury them, resolved to stop flirting and finally, truly, bury the connection between us.

“Fine,” I say instead. “We can keep training. But you have to keep practicing using your two conduits in tandem.” He salutes me to show his agreement, and I laugh again. He stands and holds his hand out to me.

“Shall we return to Fionn and Silene, who almost certainly believe we’ve killed each other by now?”