Rex stood frozen between them, the silence of the training yard amplifying the distant sounds of other soldiers preparing for war, the metallic clang of weapons being sharpened, and the rhythmic shouts of drills. His mind was a battlefield of its own.
On one side lay the cold, tactical calculus: two pregnant women in a high-intensity magical conflict were liabilities, potential casualties that could shatter his entire operational strategy.
On the other side lay the brutal reality of leadership: if he stripped these two of their agency, he would break the very spirit that made them the elite forces they were.
Their stubbornness wasn't just a flaw; it was their greatest asset, the same unyielding steel that had seen them through countless horrors.
He studied them, his gaze hard enough to cut through their defiance. He saw the fire in Iris's eyes—the same fire that had survived Veylor's death and the unshakable duty in Aurelia's stance.
"Reserve positions only," Rex said finally.
