She had not seen the intent in his words. She had assumed he wished for her to return to be a show of allegiance as he and the Chaldean faced the two remaining territories. She had not assumed that he was asking of her far more than that and in the face of such a misunderstanding, she felt foolish. More so because she had no words to respond to him. Her silence was all she had as her thoughts tried to organize everything she was thinking.
Her hands were still enfolded in his own and her eyes shifted to them. Her pale hands seemed to be swallowed by his own and that imagery only seemed to heighten her own uncertainties. It was not such an easy thing he asked of her. It never had been. The first time it had simply been because she had not wanted to marry. She'd wanted freedom and adventure and everything outside of what could be granted in such a role as wife. Then it was no because she had her responsibilities to the South. She cared for Mikino, she always had, but there had always been something standing in the way.
This time it wasn't obligations or childish desires. It was her own fear and doubt. "I do not know what it is you see in me, Mikino, that makes you think I am suited for such a role," she whispered, her hold on his hands tightening just slightly, "I manage the West only through familiarity and the memories of all my Father had done. I was not raised for a crown and the gods know my temperament is not what it should be. I do not have the confidence to say that I would be what you wish of me. What if I make it worse?"
This was not something so simple as which mare to breed with which stallion. The weight of this decision was far beyond something so simple.