Dorain said nothing, but her hands were trembling, her face pale. "I am a warrior," she said, still unable to look him in the eye. "I am not afraid of you."
Lifting her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes so that they could both look the truth squarely in the face, he said sternly, "You and I both know that it is not me you're afraid of."
Her features twisted with torment, she jerked away from him, choked back a sob, and cried, "Leave me alone!" At that, she stood frozen for a long moment, angrily fighting for composure, appalled at her own outburst. She found that her mouth was dry, her mind black with fear. It seemed there was not enough air for her to breath. For a moment she was afraid that she would lose her balance. A spasm shook her.
"Dorain!" Brogan took her by the shoulders to steady her. "This cannot go on!"
"I can't!" she cried dumbly, and fled. To her humilation, she found that her eyes were blinded with tears; she stumbled on the stairs in her rush to distance herself from him.
Brogan watched her go, his face an admixture of pain, self-accusation and pity. "I would let you go," he breathed, "were it not that our seeking one another out demands resolution while time remains to us. Such a resolution has no place on the battlefield."