She was like a wall. I could batter myself senseless against her, and she wouldn't change at all. I sat there, shaking, my hands clutching the scabbard so tightly my knuckles went white, and it didn't affect her one bit.

Not like Cass. Not like my soulmate, who'd always had his heart bared for me.

"Can we start over?" I'd asked him, wanting him to like me and knowing I was driving him away, biting at him because it was so much safer to bite first. "Can we start out at neutral instead of in opposition?"

He'd said yes… and now here we were again.

It was my fault as much as his.

My shoulders slumped, my armor cracking into a thousand pieces. "I know," I said softly. "I don't deserve anything Faery gave me, either. The power, the Court, the crown… it's all his. I just… I wanted to do a good job. To match up." I swallowed, hard, my throat going tight. "I didn't."

"Hm." My swordmistress leaned her weight back on her hands in a relaxed pose. "I am not a monk. I have never taken religious vows. I did train in a monastery, though," she said in her monotone voice. "Faery monasteries are generally remote, accessible only by foot on rugged trails. Such places are rife with monsters. Do you know how they protect themselves?"

I blinked, startled to be asked a question. "I could hazard a guess?"

"Don't."

I narrowly bit off a laugh, which got no reaction whatsoever from my swordmistress.

After a moment, she said, "It is common for such places to keep mastiffs as guardians. Have you seen a faery mastiff, novice?"

"No." I sprawled back against the throne, watching the sky. "Are they like mortal mastiffs? Big scary dogs?"

"They are something like that," she allowed. "Ours are greater in size, I think, and they have a stronger bite. But they are alike in that they are large, and strong, and fervent in defense of that which they love." She wet her lips. "A mastiff is a great-hearted beast, and fearsome in battle, but like any creature, he cannot do everything. He is not agile, nor is he enduring; he is built for forceful speed. His eyes and ears are small, so that they cannot be torn by enemies, and so his senses are not keen. For all his affection and love, he is a brute."

I looked away. I knew she was talking about Cass. "He hates being called that," I whispered.

"Perhaps what he hates is that those he wishes to love see first his strength, and fear him. Nevertheless." My swordmistress exhaled, her breath steaming in the cold. "A mastiff alone cannot defend a monastery. He is given a sentry."

I glanced back at her, frowning. "A sentry?"

She inclined her head. "A sentinel dog is small and curious. She is quick on her feet, agile; her eyes are sharp. She knows every inch of her ground, and the voice and scent and step of all of her people." My swordmistress shook her head. "A mastiff sleeps by the gate. His sentinel patrols tirelessly, and when she finds something out of place, she cries out for her partner to come defend their home. Ruf! Ruf!" she barked, startling me. "Such a small creature with such a bold voice. One might think her helpless, but even the monsters fear her, for they know what it is she summons."

"I'm not— I'm not some yapping dog," I said. My throat ached. Was that all I'd ever be to people? Small, helpless, and charmingly loud?

She snorted with derision. It was the most emotion I'd ever seen her show. "If you think that's what I'm saying, then you have not been listening." She pinned me with her flat gaze. "A sentry and a mastiff are a team. They have different strengths and weaknesses, and they both understand them and are willing to rely on each other," she said. "Tell me, novice. What are your strengths? What can you do that he cannot?"

"I…" I scraped my teeth over my upper lip. Even though I hated admitting it, I was the one who liked to bark. "I'm loud. I like people to look at me. He hates the attention, but I really like having all eyes on me."

"Good," my swordmistress said. "What else?"

I took a deep breath, feeling some of the strain in my ribs releasing. "I'm adaptable. Whatever circumstances I'm in, I can find a way to come out on top." I took another breath, inhaling through my nose, focusing on the feel of my lungs like I was meditating. "I guess it's because I don't have a lot of attachment to how I get to the top. I want to be there, and I make it happen. I guess I'm ambitious, and ruthless about it. Is that even a good thing?" I asked with a self-deprecating laugh.

"A swordswoman who hesitates on the battlefield is a dead woman," she said coolly. "What else?"

"I'm approachable," I said, warming to the task. "People aren't scared of me the way they're scared of him. I'm small and pretty, and people will talk to me." I breathed another laugh, tipping my head back to look at the stars. "I'm voracious. It doesn't matter what it is, I want to learn about it. Everything is my favorite topic."

"Good," she said again. "What about him? What does he have that you do not?"

"Healing," I said.

"Yes." My swordmistress didn't look away from me, her eyes boring into mine with single-minded focus. I could almost hear her flat voice: what else?

"He's strong," I said reluctantly, not liking having to focus on the good things he brought to the table. I wanted to be mad at him – to disdain him – but that one word was like a crack in the dam. My heart broke, and everything poured out. "Nobody in their right mind will challenge him when he steps in. He's so fucking powerful. If he walks into a room, it's his room now, no questions asked. But he's—he's so stupidly nice about it."

She sat there in silence, watching me.

Tears stung my eyes, my harsh breath halfway between a laugh and a sob. "He just likes people. He's so sure people are worthwhile, and he's so fucking earnest about it that they prove him right. I don't get it. I don't know why everyone can't just see that." I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "He could tear the world apart, but he never will. But people don't see it. He makes himself so small for them, and they're still scared of him. They always will be."