He is resolved. He must be resolved; to hesitate will win nothing, at a time like this. He said that he would consent, if she would swear. If he does not give her the chance, or does not accept her promise, then all this fragile negotiation crumbles. It does not matter, either, that she may not keep her word. What matters is that, if she swears it, he has done all he can do; and if she forswears it, then he has every right to withdraw what he has sworn himself to. (How that might be done, if it can be done at all, is a trouble for another time.)

He reaches out, and, taking her icy hand in his, is acutely conscious of the heat that pulses beneath his own skin, the blood that rushes red and rich beneath the surface of his slender hand. The seal on the bargain, and the prize he offers, all at once. Does she slaver at it?

Has she, at any time since this began, ceased to slaver?

"I do not know what your kind can swear to. But so long as you hold to it, I will hold to my part, and let you feed as you require. Is that just?"