[ As much of a human, she says, and you don't owe me a thing, she continues on, and she cannot know how impossibly wrong she is, or how very similar they are: the pair they make, the Hero King and the Lady who'd rescued him, refusing to believe in the best of themselves. ]

You must know that our interests coincide—

[ He walks forward, now, with a graceful stride unhindered by the sand, cutting a silhouette rather unlike the one he'd held when last they met. The face he presents now is not ailing, it is not so distraught, but it is still gentle, asking of her that she trust in him, have faith only for this small while. She must learn the difference between the magic of this realm and the instability which she'd confessed to him, for if she is not able to differentiate between the two he fears...

That he will not be able to protect her from it, her own power. For there are times when denying one's own strength is a danger as much as it modesty. ]

—and that your skill is no blind measure of luck, but rather a testament to everything you've weathered until now.

[ Both the good and bad. The ugly and the not-so. ]

What I will do is ask if you've not felt anything strange, or sensed anything which is amiss in the wake of your promotion. [ Trust in your instincts, Alice. ] The comb in your hair is lovely, but it is undoubtedly a weapon, just as my necklace is. Have you made the attempt of channeling your mana through it?