[ the question terrifies her — not because she notices what it suggests that he could not readily say 'yes.' no, it terrifies her because it draws to mind the memory of how he had looked at her the night of the king's fete, and how she had wanted that moment to stretch out forever. it was intoxicating to imagine herself as someone powerful enough to justify the reverence he'd shown. the awe.

but he asks her to consider the fact that he is eternal. that being his equal would mean that she is, as well. loneliness comes with that, unless they are together. that loneliness looms over her like a storm front, promising fresh misery. it should be an old friend at this point, but she simply cannot bring herself to that. so it would tether her to him.

and whether he realizes it or not, she must therefore also consider the rest of what she knows. what he is. what he wants to do.

it should be an easy question to answer. she should be repulsed. but alina has never felt more herself than she did in the little palace, never more confident than when she allowed herself to imagine being his peer. if anything — ]

The only way for me to save Ravka is for it to be true. If it's not, then I'm not their hope. Not their saint. I'm a fraud. [ they've had that conversation before: the fear that the people would turn on her, as they'd turned on the black — ... on him. she searches his face, more afraid because of how drawn to him she feels as she makes the admission. ] I need it to be true.