He leaned forward and wiped the tears from my cheeks with the sleeve of his own kefta. "If you tell me you cannot bear this then I will send you from here and you need never wear those colors or walk the halls of the grand palace again. You will be safe. I promise you that."
I looked up at him, not quite believing. “Safe?”
"Safe. But I can promise this too. You are a soldier. You could be my greatest soldier. And if you stay, if you can endure this, one day all will know it.”
His face grew serious. “I can promise you safety,” he said. “Or I can promise to see your suffering repaid a thousandfold.” With the pad of his thumb, he brushed a stray tear from beneath my eye. “You decide, Genya.”
That choice was hard, but this one is easy. I open the black wood box, and I feed the letters to the fire, one by one. It hurts but I can bear it. Because I am a doll and a servant. Because I am a pretty thing and a soldier all the same. - (Leigh Bardugo, The Tailor)