"Destiny?" Essenla snorted. "If you want our help, you're going to have to do better than that."
Morne grunted in agreement. Saying "it's your destiny" only worked on idiots, hopefuls, and children. He wasn't going to throw himself into a war just because some child-faced king said he had to.
"Regardless of what you think, this is the truth," Grek said imperiously, clasping his hands behind his back as a hint of regal might appeared between his brows. "You will assist us in winning this war, and in return, we shall help you return home.
"Now, for the third time, tell me of your abilities."
"We're not going to get ourselves killed just because you tell us to," Essenla growled, echoing Morne's thoughts.
She didn't know about Morne, but she didn't have a home to go back to.
Everyone she could consider a friend or family member was dead. She had nothing and no one waiting for her back in the empire. Why would she risk her life to go back?
