Not a chance

Will she hide, and abandon Zeya?

Yes/No (Unlikely)

[1,1] No, but…

Lavorra has an idea

—

A plan forms, even as the voices grow closer, harsher. It doesn’t do much to make her feel better, but at least it’ll soothe her conscience.

“You’re right.” She nods, “I can’t risk being captured. But I won’t leave you either. You’re a merchant - do you have anything in your pack? A potion, maybe a spell, that could change how I look? Make them think I’m… like you?”

She blushes violently, realising what she’s saying. But her mind is made up, somehow, she’s going to do this with her quest and her honour intact.

Zeya’s eyes widen, her face a mix of horror and gratitude. “I actually do… Gods below are you sure about this?”

“I am.” Lavorra nods, masking a quaver in her voice.

“You’re crazy. You know what they’ll do, right? But I suppose this way you won’t end up with a swollen belly. Or dead. Alright.” She darts over to her pack, but not before planting a kiss on Lavorra’s cheek. “You’re crazy. But kind.”

A moment later, with the voices of the Daemons almost upon them, she produces a vial of blue, inky liquid. “Get this down you quickly.” She grimaces, “might not be the last time you hear that tonight.”

Lavorra can’t help but snort with grim laughter at that. Obediently, she uncorks the vial and swallows the bitter, viscous fluid in one go.