"I know," he murmured, his arms tight around her as she collapsed against him. Her anger pushed against his mind, bright and hot and brittle, and instead of pushing it away, he embraced it, meeting it with as much steady calm as he could muster.

"Neither do I," he admitted, the shadow of the throne looming, as it had on Exegol.

"It's going to be a bit more difficult to throw into the ocean, I think."