his only chance for something true and meaningful.
I'm Iolanthe Seabourne, the so-called greatest elemental mage of my generation. Yesterday I only worried about a wedding, now I worry I'll never be the same again. Oh, I'm also bound to a pompous asshole-- er, His Highness, Titus VII: who meticulously planned out everything to accomplish this prophecy. Ha, over my dead body, Sire.
Not a soul to trust and the only person I thought would keep me safe could care less if I lived or died. In this terrible situation, what else is there to do? Carry on.