"No, you didn't, but they wouldn't have felt the need to torture you. Isn't that better?" As he'd said before, it was mostly for all those in the Covenant, but partly for her, too. As he tries to find the words to explain his thoughts, he realizes that she's afraid of him. He can't taste it on the air like some of his friends, but he can see it in her body language and it makes him step back, just far enough away from her that there's a shimmer of eye-shine reflecting. Has he really fallen so far?

"The Unseelie aren't my people, Hermione. Morla press-ganged me into service, and I know that when the time comes, she'll use this treason and others against me. Reul'll bake me in the court kitchens and I'll be a messy meal in the throne room." He frowns and scrubs at his face. That's not what he wanted to say.

"You can be neutral because you must, but you cannot be idle. Fight, Hermione, please."

"I didn't want to be here, to fight in this war, but it's the most necessary thing I've ever done. We're not just fighting for Seelie, or Unseelie, but everyone. All people, all worlds, and ... and this world, it's so beautiful, and terrible, and awesome in the best sense." There's a tremor to his voice that betrays his deep, heartfelt love of the Drabwurld and her people. He's grown-up, into a different man than the boy she knew, but he still cares and will turn that emotion into a rallying battle cry.