"Near as I can tell, there isn't any way to extricate myself," Faolan responds, honestly. Which is as close as he can come to admitting anything about the oath without actually talking about it. He'd rather not turn into stone due to a slip of the tongue, not if he can help it at least.

"...I can feel magic," he admits to her. "Somehow, I've begun to be able to sense it. I'm still trying to get a feel for it. Trying to tell the difference between them. Vampire from fae, from a witch. But I didn't ask for it. I didn't ask for any of this. I'm. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for... For any of this, the election, the Night Council, ending up in charge of this place..." Everything had just gotten so complicated so fast, and Faolan had done his best to keep his head above water. She had let him kip in her guest room, she has to know how terrible he was at caring for himself. Never mind how terrible he is with friendships.