The Queen's Lesson (End)

"Because if I don't, no one else can. And one day, you'll need that strength to stand when I'm not here." The words came out quietly, nearly dispassionate, but each syllable landed with a weight she could not ignore. He did not raise his voice, never needed to. It was simply a statement of inevitability, offered in the same matter-of-fact tone he used to correct her stance or point out a flaw in her strategy.

Her throat tightened. She hated the way the possibility of him not being there made her chest twinge. The idea that Draven—this maddening, brilliant, insufferable professor—could one day vanish from her life struck deeper than any sword blow. Why, she couldn't quite say. Maybe because he was the only one who challenged her in ways she both despised and craved. Maybe because she was tired of people leaving, tired of illusions that vanished when she needed them most. She refused to let him see that. She forced a sneer, though it lacked its normal bite.