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"We may not have a choice Did you think of that?"

"'Tis not an option," he replies sharply

"Look, you can defeat these people without me, and I can't die I don't exactly want to be tortured, but if it gives you a -"

"Nay" There's a lethal note in his tone this tiht to see you killed"

I can't die I start to point that out once more when it hits me "You aren't the only one who kno to kill ht a thousand years ago killed the warrior queen"

"A secret passed through both families, I am fairly certain"

Now that freaksto be stuck in a book and invincible and quite another to know I can die here

I've been swiping ers over his forear up his s his arood swipe in before he beheaded it The wound is crusted over, the skin around it red with agitation It's not infected that I can see, though there's a dab of blood near his elbow, a sign he did soes of the wound together

Tracing ers over the injury, I frown His blood is real The pain this wound caused truly exists as well

At what point did I start to believe that this world and its inhabitants weren't just characters in a book? When did I start to care what happened to the his arm disturb me so much? This man can die and suffer and hurt the sa an axe to halve a tree have also touched me with complete tenderness

"Where's ht's dungeon"

"Thank god He's a good kid He means well, even if he can't lift that sword of his"

"He will learn"

"You really want me to stay?" I venture "Because you want to exploit my battle-witchiness?"

"'Tis needed to break the curse"

"Yeah," I agree, somewhat disappointed about the response "It is" Not that I don't understand where he's coh, I can't help hoping there's so else between us, as far-fetched as it see to want ? I mean, this is a book