Herbalists' Cache i do not know my part

star eater's jaw tightened.
black hawk had always been steadfast, a warrior carved from ice and stone, but this—this was a wound that ran deep. not only for her, but for star eater as well. betrayal had come in many forms, had twisted its claws through the very foundation of what they had built.
and black hawk had played her part.
i must believe he would, too.
the words were measured, but something raw lingered beneath them, an ache she had not yet allowed herself to name. sun eater was not a man of softness, of forgiveness, but he was a man of duty. he would not cast aside his own flesh without reason. he would not let his kingdom crumble beneath the weight of vengeance.
but she could not afford to assume.
i cannot afford false choices, black hawk. this you must understand.
her gaze was unyielding, holding the weight of the decision she had already made. her voice was firm, though laced with the quiet grief of what had been lost. she did not speak of the choices black hawk had made, the paths she had walked, the loyalties she had wavered between.
but she did not have to.
black hawk knew.
the storm in her eyes, the tension in her frame—it was all there, bare, exposed. she feared not the man, but the consequences of his wrath. not for herself, but for what she would leave unguarded.
star eater exhaled slowly, the words settling between them like the first snowfall of winter—cold, certain, unshaken by the winds that would follow.
good.
she did not offer comfort, nor did she offer condemnation. black hawk had made her choice, and so had she.
her gaze fell to the small, helpless figures curled against her belly.
serve them well, then.