"The only other kind of king is called a tyrant," Declan points out, with a little smirk because Gansey's such an idiot, so filled with self-doubt when everyone else believes in him so much, and it gives Declan an easy loophole, an easy way to be glib and careless, because it's easy to let his honesty slip through those trembling fingers.

"You still have to choose. You have to command. And you'll never know what you're doing." Declan shrugs with a little arch of his eyebrow, cold-edged challenge even while Gansey holds his head in his hands, has him vulnerable and aching. "You want me to rule you, Gansey? To be your reprieve from responsibility? I might slip from your fingers while you're making up your mind."