"Fuck. There you go again with being so damned sympathetic and likeable," Beatrid growled, glaring down at the ground. Goddammit. Why did he have to be likeable? So many people got on her shit list, so why did he have to be one of the ones that didn't? And worse, why did he have to remind her of her old friend, Hek-Akiz? Which was even stranger, since Hek had been grievously wounded by a mage.
This was horrific.
She rubbed her temples, feeling a headache creeping along the edges of her skull. What Gherrick had said about the nobleman--the one whose crown he'd stolen--swam around in her mind, coupled by the injustice of him being framed. She'd known there was corruption afoot; one would have to be blind not to. But never before had it affected her so directly.
She could just let things run its course; he may be a man with decent intentions, but he was still a criminal, still a mage. Perhaps all his accumulated crimes, plus magecraft, would be enough for a death sentence. Surely it would. She could turn her back on it, tell herself that, and just...let be what would be. No one would fault her for it.
But she would know, and so would Ansgar. Ansgar who still loved mages, but hated the magic. He had used magic, broken the law, so by right he should die for it--but it hadn't been to harm, as much as it made her skin crawl that she'd been touched by its taint.
And justifying in her head what he was dying for wouldn't change the fact that he was dying for false murders. If she let this happen, she'd earn a mark for herself, one embroidered in her soul.
"For all your...flippancy about this, I'm gonna assume ya give a fuck and actually aren't okay with this," she finally said, and looked up at him, voice lowering. "Because I'm not, either. And..." She took a deep breath. "I think I may be about to do something completely moronic."