She's got the devil's eyes
It’s simple enough, to point out the obvious. The correct application of words and a woman with Kensa’s intelligence could so easily be shown the truth, after all. They are very similar in that respect. Heartfire had never been so blind to her own foibles that when the truth had been exposed she had refused to see it, and neither is Kensa. Indeed, it says a great deal about the Hyaline Primarch that she is so willing to step forward and grasp what was offered so soon after recognizing the reality of it.
If there is any ally that Heartfire would like to cultivate, it is those like Kensa. The ones who refuse to blind themselves even when the truth is not always comfortable or convenient. The one’s willing to do what is necessary to seize their own dreams and visions. The ones who understand strategy and patience are just as much (or more) powerful than anger and brute force. Even the strongest things break if one applies pressure in the right place.
And Heartfire is exceptionally skilled at discovering those weak points.
Slowly, the barest hint of a smile curves her dark lips, an exceedingly rare thing to grace the northern queen’s features. The self-deprecation of sudden understanding is easily swallowed by the wolfish recognition of new doors opened, and Heartfire is pleased to see it. Beneath the quietly demuring facade of a thoughtless coquette lies the heart and mind of a prodigy.
It’s an interesting question she poses however. One there is no simple answer to, unfortunately. For a long moment, Heartfire merely peers thoughtfully at Kensa, as though that single look might portray all that had happened since that moment to bring Heartfire here today. Finally, as though all of that could be summed up so easily, she simply says, “You decide what you want.” Pause. “What you truly want.”
Not nearly so simple as it sounds, regerttably. If anyone should know, it is the roan mare even now suggesting it. Tilting her head slightly, she continues, “Do you know what that is yet?” Her lips twitch faintly then, not truly expecting an answer. Certainly it would not be something summarized so easily as “a crown” or “a kingdom”. “I doubt it, but perhaps I can help.” Her blue gaze sharpens then, unreadable meaning behind that unnerving stare. “Perhaps we can help each other.”
and they'll cut you like a weapon