“You owe me nothing. I swore to die for you.” She shrugs precisely. The wine in her glass barely moves. “So it will be.” I see your strategy, Tain Hu, Baru thinks. I see the order of battle. You go to your death with exquisite loyalty. I measure my treason against your faith and it eats me up, now and for the rest of my life. It is the most hurt you can manage. It will work.
