It's not as simple as Ronan thinks, though it's an argument she's not equipped to have in detail. She hadn't wanted him dead any more than she'd wanted Jordan dead, despite the argument she'd had with her dreamt twin in which she'd claimed exactly that.

There was an order of operations somewhere in the back of her mind that didn't quite qualify as a plan, because planning meant investing a degree of hope beyond the flicker she'd held long enough to trust a moderator and a visionary. Somewhere in that order was find Ronan and try not to let him die. Liliana had assured her it would be okay. She wanted so desperately for that to be true that she'd leapt without looking.

Now, with her vision starting to blur as black teardrops trickle from the corners of her eyes, she's reconsidering what okay might mean. She stumbles on a stair as they make their way inside but would honestly prefer to fall on her face than cling any more tightly to the person she's definitely going to have a knock-down-drag-out swordfight with later.

"Nice castle," she mumbles, coughing a little as the bitter taste of nightwash hits the back of her throat. She's resentful that he's gotten the nice parts of it while she was stuck in jail, but she's not coherent enough now to access the biting comment she'd meant to follow up with.