"Do it." I said it kindly, but I meant it.
And Myrnin slowly nodded. He picked up his hat and walked out, head down, shoulders slumped beneath the weight of all that I'd just heaped upon him.
There were no good choices. Not now.
Oliver took only another moment to arrive, slipping in the door and shutting it on my assistant's exasperated protests. He was wearing the odd and faintly ridiculous clothing that he kept to blend in with the human population, forsaking his own natural liking for dark, plain lines and fabrics. He took in my expression, my stiff back, the look in my eyes, and crossed to pick up the fallen piece of paper that Morley had sent us.
He read it and let it fall back to the floor. Without looking up at me, he said, "It's come, then."
"Yes."
Now he met my eyes. "And what will you do, Amelie? Will you retreat as you've always done?"
"It's called survival, Oliver."
"Often confused with cowardice," he said.
I shot him a hard look. "Aren't you afraid?"
He gave me a smile then, spare and warlike, and it steadied me. "Fear is the natural state of anything that dies, even us," he said. "So of course I am. But perhaps it's time to use the fear."
"To stand and fight?" I said. "That's always your answer, you know."
"That's because it works."
I shook my head slowly. "You only remember when it does. Avoiding the fight means you stay alive. And I prefer to live, Oliver. I always have."
"And I prefer to fight," he said. "And always will." He was very close to me, and beneath the camouflage of modern clothing he was the same as he'd ever been, spare and hard, lean and cold. The very opposite of Samuel's light and spirit of gentleness.
But perhaps now I needed a warrior more than I needed a saint.
That is the only reason I can think for the kiss.
I think the sudden and half-desperate attraction came as a shock to us both, but it was . . . oddly inevitable. And the kiss . . . the kiss was sweet, and commanding, and it soothed something mad and terrified that had broken its cage within me.
I could see a sudden wariness on his face when I pulled back from him; he thought he had just made a serious tactical error. In truth, I wasn't sure he hadn't, or that I hadn't, but I gently put a hand against his face, and smiled without a word.
He put his fingers over mine, staring into my eyes. "This has been a long time coming," he said. "And yet I must confess, it is something of a surprise. Why do you think that is?"
"Because we are well matched in stubbornness," I said. "And pride. And fear."
Our smiles faded, and I mourned them a bit, because seeing Oliver relaxed in this way was something radiant, and rare as a unicorn. "Perhaps it's something we should take up later," he said. "When we have leisure to explore all of those questions that have just been raised."
"Yes," I said. "We must - yes." I took in a fresh, shallow breath and said, "Claire and Shane know about the note. Myrnin did not tell them all of it, but I have no doubt he gave them enough to make them curious, and we cannot afford curiosity. Not now."
The spark went out of his eyes, and it was only the warrior general facing me now, not a man, or even the immortal shell of one. He took a physical step back, breaking the contact between us. "Then you must stop them from telling others. I don't think harsh words will suffice. We need to buy time to prepare, and if the human community suspects . . ."
"I know that," I said, irritated. "Myrnin - "
Oliver barked out a laugh. "You send Myrnin to do such a thing? Not that he isn't an enthusiastic little killer under the right circumstances, I will grant you that, but he's as sentimental as a dewy-eyed child about some things, and that girl is one of them."
"I've agreed he can spare the girl. We can control her, so long as the boy is gone." Even as I said it, even as the words came out of my mouth, I realized what I'd just said.
And how very, very wrong it was.
Oliver was shaking his head. "If that boy dies, she won't bend. She won't break. She'll be the perfect spark to ignite this powder keg, and we cannot afford the fight, not now. You know this girl, you know. You must call Myrnin off."
And he was right. I'd reacted foolishly, and even Myrnin, sweetly insane Myrnin, had known. He'd tried to tell me.