She sees that hesitation and feels the walls around her heart start to rebuild themselves, cold and unbreakable as the one that had held the dead at bay until it hadn't. She's ready to tell him it doesn't matter, that she doesn't need love to be queen, that there are other ways to rule --

-- and then he's kissing her and whatever he was going to say can wait, as can the willful destruction of what's left of her own heart. At least for a while longer. She kisses him hungrily, in fierce defiance of whatever gods there are that would take even this from her after everything else.