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“Why do you treat me so well?” He asked, with her hand on his face. It was a foolish thing to ask, revealing too much, pushing too far, but he was exhausted and she had a way of weakening his resolve. She did not pull her hand away, thumb stroking soft across his cheek.
“Too few question,” she said at last. “Either they have given up, or are furious and impertinent. The former do not interest me, and I cannot be seen tolerating the latter. But some are like you, knowing when and how to press, seeking advantage without being destructive. It is a pleasure to see the way you move through the court, to recognize the precision of your efforts.”
It was not the answer he was expecting. If anything, he would have assumed a physical interest, at most an appreciation of his skills—but not his maneuvering. “My efforts are for you—” he began, but she shook her head.
“This is sloppy, my little pride. Do not lie.” After a moment she resumed her gentle stroking. He had the distant thought that she could be petting her loyal dog. “I know you intend to betray us.” He forced his expression to remain calm, only belatedly realizing that he should have acted as if the thought was shocking. She smiled, the white glint of her teeth visible. “You intend to save the slaves. You are already stealing them away. You are subtle, my Solas, but you cannot hide your efforts entirely.”
So, she knew. She knew and yet she spoke to him with such warmth. She had not demanded he return the slaves. As he puzzled over her reaction, her smile grew. “Ah, the gears turn. I enjoy watching you think.”
“They deserve better,” he said and she nodded, but he was not so naive as to think she was agreeing with him. She was simply confirming her own suspicions.
“Perhaps they do,” she admitted after a moment, “but how do you intend to give them what they deserve? A war will devastate Arlathan, my sweet pride. The very people you seek to save shall be slaughtered in the battle you begin.” Her words chilled him, for they echoed his deepest fears back at him.
“I do not need to do this alone.” His voice was soft, pitched low and intimate, and she looked approving.
“You reach without reaching. Is it an offer that I join you, or a statement that you have already swayed others? Or perhaps you count the freed slaves as your allies.” She shook her head, growing somber. “They may be many things, but they do not have the strength to stand against the Evanuris. The only way for you to win is to divide us.”
“Why tell me all this?” She tilted her head and studied him, as if searching for the truth behind his question. But for once there was nothing beyond the statement, a simple, honest curiosity.
“I am not opposed to your goals,” she said at last, and this did shock him, “and if you can find a way forward that will not destroy us all, I wish for your success. It costs me nothing to give you this small advice, and may save much. Or,” here she grinned, “it may do nothing at all. The days feel the same, pup, but looking back it is all change. You seek to shape that change, but all I can guarantee is the change itself.”
He turned into her hand, his own rising to cradle hers as he kissed her palm. He would not spurn her wisdom. Perhaps it was a trick, but there would be easier ways to stop his efforts. More entertaining ways to encourage his failure. This advice, by contrast, seemed to support his own observations.
He did not understand, but he would not ignore.