Claudius turns through the angles of this, too — this time, he thinks he owes it to Lan Wangji to speak his thoughts aloud. If it seems cold, Lan Wangji has never begrudged him for seeming coldness. “Were it Magnus,” he says, “thou dost have a duty to Magnus, who has given up the sword, and looks to thee for protection. And were I still thy friend, but not thy friend who asked thee to help put politics behind him … were I Prince Claudius, I would tell thee thou may’st have a duty to Nina, to protect her from that with which she entrusted thee, but she no longer wishes that protection. I would call thee by name, look thee in the eye, speak to thee in smooth, reasoning tones. Thou canst not be too good, I would say. Goodness, growing to a pleurisy, dies in his own too-much. It would be entirely selfish. Thou wouldst do well to ignore a man who tries to convince thee oaths are trifling and must be dispensed with by necessity; he wants something. I would want thee to bend for Magnus’s sake, because I know what he means to thee and to Galahad. But thou gavest Nina thy word. Were it Magnus, thou wouldst mourn the choice more … but I still believe thou wouldst make it.” He shakes his head — for all he felt he had to share his thinking, it’s beside the purpose. “It must have been painful, to be asked to envision it.”