"Yes." Her answer was almost inaudible.
"Will that same honor let you stop now, when you know you're the only chance the Empire has?" That might be putting it a bit strongly, Medart thought—but after her demonstration, it might also be the precise truth.
She stared down at the table for what seemed like eons before she was able to answer. "No."
Looking up, she continued. "You are correct. I will face Thark. But I see no need to do so as a Ranger."
Tension built in the silent room as Corina thought. It wasn't fair, she felt. They were trying to… perhaps force was not the right word, but urge her into something she did not feel capable of. It was almost impossible for her to accept the idea that feeling unqualified was part of what made her qualified. It did not seem reasonable. And it was just too much!
Medart answered her unspoken thoughts. "No, it isn't fair. And the reasoning may not be obvious, but from our experience, it is logical."
"This is just as much a war as the one we fought with the Traiti," Forrest added, with a curious glance at Medart. "Even though the Empire tries to be fair, Sir Corina, we can't always manage, especially in this kind of emergency."
"Take some more time, Sir Corina," Emperor Davis said suddenly, sounding sympathetic. Forrest threw him a quick glance, so Davis continued. "It was a hard enough decision for us. She's already had to go through one drastic change; we can't expect her to accept the idea of an even more drastic one so easily or quickly."
Corina felt a flood of relief. "Thank you, Your Majesty!"
"So the little kitten can't take it," came a familiar voice.