And in the night when no one sees who cries
To cry against me till my throne has crumbled.
And yet if I give way I must offend
My courtiers and nobles till they too
Strike at the crown. What would you have of me?
Seanchan.
When did the poets promise safety, King?
King.
Seanchan, I bring you bread in my own hands,
And bid you eat it because of all these reasons,