"That's not how history works. That's not how life works." The healthier man's eyes burned but Burnie's all but glistened, one of the differences between them. "If she returned home before encountering the lot of you, maybe. This might seem a dream in time as she got reacquainted to her old life. I don't think so, but there's a shock and a shift of that, so maybe then. This transition though?" The shake of his head was slow, not sad, certainly measured. "One foot in each world. A bridge between the new and the old. Who she's become acclimated to her old environs through your presence. I really am the least of your worries." Even as he said it, though, something rang false in his ears, the lingering sound of it. That brought forth a chuckle. "Second to last, third to last. I'm low on the list and lower still if the you is plural."
And why was that? Well, he'd turn to the raven then, chuckle becoming a barely interested smile. "Benedict, one thing you have to understand is that he simply can't have me for a rival, a counterbalance. It's not even that I might instruct her in a way that doesn't suit his needs. And the idea that I might empower her, give her an edge that she might not otherwise have, might inspire in her a disruptive sort of unpredictability that would overturn the board in her favor, and therefore his? None of it matters. That's fascinating in and of itself; it either speaks to breathtaking confidence given the stakes or resigned fatalism." But none of that was the point he was trying to make. His eyes closed for a short second and his smile returned with their unveiling. "It's a matriarchy. There's only ever room for one of him and there's precious little room at that. He can't be marginalized. There's no margin to fit into. Shall I give him one last thing? He asks all the damned wrong questions, especially frustrating for me since I only want to help her and I wouldn't even mind helping him, despite his terrible manners as a guest."
With strength that he had hardly seemed to possess at any point in the last many minutes, he kicked his feet off the side of the bed, sitting up fully. "The thing about a queen, this queen, here in Myrken, is that if she can't have what she wants how she wants, she finds another way. If she can't have the father, she'll take the son. If she can't have a smile, well the lips will do. That's a bit far maybe, less literal than the first one." A long inhale there, a wistful exhale. "She couldn't have what she wanted and me as we were as well. She decided that. I'd make it all too hard for her. So she decided she'd breathe deep in the notion of me of an antagonist. Now she's a taste of that. The poisoning wasn't the point. It wasn't the ends. It was the means. That's what you're missing. It wasn't any sort of victory in and of itself, but the means to the victory that followed. Do you think for a second that she'll let me have the last word like that? Either I'll make peace with her or she'll wage the most affectionate war upon me. I assure you that I'm too old for that sort of attention."