Stare ground her hands into fists. "They were armed."
"Yes and the Man of Secrets wasn't but you didn't complain about his death."
She said nothing. In all honesty the god had a point. After a while he sighed and set down the paper.
"He is our enemy, Stare, not just yours. You don't like hearing his screaming ... Well plug your ears. You knew it was going to happen, you're stronger than this, I know."
She closed her eyes and pressed a fist to her eyes. A lump formed in her throat because really, she thought it too. She thought the man, the demon mage, deserved it. It was a standard rule of the world in terms of judgement - you got what was coming to you. But it was not that she judged him innocent, it was just ...
"It's the reminder of the place," she murmured quietly. "We went there today, and it made me remember it all, everything. Going back to ..." She flickered up images of her first few days in the Hollow. The fear she felt, the panic that settled in. The way he had first presented himself, then beat her and raped her and -
"Stare," he said in a full, strong voice. "Stop, now, please. Your fear, emotions and everything are good, they make you stronger, and I can use that, but I cannot be a friend who gives you pity." She looked up at him, and he shrugged, not looking sorry in the slightest. "You know who I am, what I am and what I do. I cannot make that easier for you." He sighed at her look in her eyes, the loss and the uneasiness.
"Look, I can see you are not going to be of any use to me just now. Go and ... Go for a couple of hours, but do not get drunk. Be back after then and I will have finished my interrogation. Agreement?"
She blinked a few times and realised what he was saying. Suddenly she stood, the chair clattering back behind her.
"You ... Actually mean it?"
"Yes, go do something useful, like get supplies or something but get out of here before I change my mind," he gestured at the door quickly.
Her eyes lit up and she actually caused her corners of her mouth to smile before she ran over to her pack. Grabbing her belt pouch there was the lightest jingle before she looked once at him, and then paused - but then ran again.
"Thank you, my lord!" she said cheerily.
It was only when she was half way down the street that either of them noticed she had used the term 'my lord' and not meant it sarcastically.
