Simon almost interrupted with a rebuttal at her first statement. Almost cut in with an instructive criticism to help her see his point of view. But what she said next rang true, closer to what he’d been trying to get people to understand than anything he’d heard in a long time. Annabeth understood. Perhaps she was only just one woman, but it was a start.

So, Simon started slowly.

“Surely you’ve heard of this new resolution that’s been circulating under the queen’s name.”

Simon was quiet for a moment. He considered idly whether in this case, Annabeth was a proxy for the people of Lorendale. That seeing how she’d respond was really his determining how the public would respond at large. Or perhaps even still he was trying to convince himself; trying to absolve himself of his sins through this confession.

“The queen didn’t put it forward. I did.”

“I do,” He responded, “But I believe it worth the risk.” Which was only partially true. Simon couldn’t have anticipated the arrival of Elena Eldouir at the queen’s speech. But with the information he had, the calculus seemed to tip in the favor of action.

“I had begun to doubt the queen’s resolve,” Simon answered honestly, “She is still young and indecisive, but these are times that call for decisiveness. People are dying, Annabeth. Something needed to be done to force the queen to act.”

The benefit of the doubt. Simon supposed that was, on some level, admirable, but Iliana was no noblewoman. Perhaps she would step into her own spotlight, but she’d had five—no, six—years to do so. A beloved monarch she was, yes, but a leader? Simon wasn’t so sure.

“Unfortunately,” Simon said, “We cannot wait any longer. Besides…what’s done is done. All that’s left is to see what the queen does next.”

Simon considered the question for a moment, not entirely certain of the answer. He wasn’t certain of anything, anymore actually. He’d always been certain of his place in the world but now everything hung in the balance. Simon would remain quiet, milky eyes gazing forward at her but unseeing.

“Because soon I will face the consequences for what I’ve done, but someone has to continue to speak. The gifted are dangerous, Annabeth. And Lorendale has to see that—sooner rather than later. I suppose I hoped that you might..."

Simon was again quiet for a moment. Whatever calculus he was doing in his head was unclear. But eventually he settled on:

“One must have a purpose in this life. A way that they intend to serve others. Lorendale has a need for men and women willing to speak truth to power. Maybe you are just one voice, one that might not carry the same weight as others, but it is for precisely that reason you could be useful. To gather intelligence, to network those who value reason together.” Simon paused.

“I have need for an ally. Someone who can move without drawing attention or note. Someone no one would suspect.” Simon let the statement sit, without a question attached to it.

And perhaps it was. Simon rather thought compassion was often used as an excuse for naivety. But he hoped that such people existed, though it would seem Lorendale presently no value for such things. When going to war, one must come armed with a sword—or the very least a shield—and not an open hand and a flower.

“I suppose we shall see, Miss Porter.” Simon was quiet for a moment before sighing and sipping his tea. “I’m sorry to have kept you. I’m sure your daughter is missing her mother…or that my dear housekeeper has already smothered her with sweets.”