[The sting of it sits between the ribs—wounded pride or the distinct iron taste of failure. It would do him good to ignore it. To set it aside. If he is to send Leander a half a world away on the hope that he will be loyal to a thing he has no reason to love and a choice few for undoing it—if that is the only point in this, it would benefit him to make some last effort to reshape this before turning him loose. He might still in this last moment find a lie or some small touch that could do that service for him. He's quite certain of it.
But he'd see it now, wouldn't he? Notice, if he were to suddenly bend. No, he's made enough of a fool of himself and can't tolerate the idea of showing more of the thing.
So.
There are worse things to take to Tevinter than resentment. It's practically a kindness to prepare him in such a fashion.]
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But he'd see it now, wouldn't he? Notice, if he were to suddenly bend. No, he's made enough of a fool of himself and can't tolerate the idea of showing more of the thing.
So.
There are worse things to take to Tevinter than resentment. It's practically a kindness to prepare him in such a fashion.]
See that you do.