"You would not be the only one," Teiran said. Truthfully in some way she almost envied Raymond. It was a feeling she'd had when they had spoken at the festival and again now, mentioning it to the Terrastellan. Perhaps she wanted to be able to wield a weapon that was so readily at hand, but she would not want the same to be said of anyone else. Anyone else would be a threat. Raymond was a threat, she thought, felt. Perhaps she did not know in what way, but she believed it true.
"Just because it eludes you doesn't mean it isn't out there," the Solterran soldier speaks, agrees. She had stared down the barrels of enough guns to know there is no such thing as true peace. Comfort and safety are illusions, but damn good ones. Teiran refused to let her guard down just because nobody started trouble at a flower festival in Delumine of all places. Her sage green gaze flickered over the winged woman at her side and Teiran felt a sort of camaraderie with her—like the kind she felt with Seraphina—but incomplete. There was no silver collar, no army of child soldiers they shared. And yet, somehow, they were of a similar vein.
She wondered, then, if she should warn this woman of the Davke, and then if she also should have warned the Deluminians. Teiran could not say if they knew at all of the attack. What Seraphina had decided to tell the other courts, if anything at all, was not really her business. It didn't seem like the Davke to leave the sand and sun soaked home they had killed for, but Teiran did not trust them or their unpredictability. "I find it's easier to suspect everyone, rather than no one," she said at last.
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