Must he and I be enemies? Why had she asked Beatrice that? And there, burning in the middle of her heart, as sure as the amber sun overhead, she had her answer. It was simple, it was obvious, and it was staring at her in the face. Because she did not want them to be enemies. Deep down inside, buried beneath the rock it had squirmed out from underneath like the slimy nightcrawler it was, was the honest truth. If he did not wish to take so many lives, I would have surrendered to him within a fortnight.
