That's - that's - She flickers, between fear and anger with no other outlet. It's not possible, and maybe she should rage and shout and demand. There is so much at stake. So much she must yet do. She cannot be away from her wars, her battles, her people. Does he not understand? What then, yell at him but who is he to fix this?

It's tempting, tempting to take the relief. He was clearly not in any position to change it.

She takes in a breath, eyes down. Nothing much crosses her face. A sinking behind her position, her rank. In that her hands settle into her lap, weighing her choices. Her stare fixed on him. "Either you are lying to me, or I must accept myself at your mercy, far from my home, from my people. Which would you take?"