"Me, jealous of Craven?" Solomon laughed outright. "The day I let anything Craven does move me to jealousy is a day I'd hang up my suit. But for the insanity--" Solomon shook his head. "That might do it. I couldn't stand up against Vile. In the end, I didn't have to. If she was anything like that ..."

Like you.

Solomon hadn't been in a position to stand up against Vile, not emotionally, not politically. The most he'd been able to do was leave until Vile had, inevitably, fallen apart. But he hadn't been, wouldn't be, in that position as a senior cleric of the Temple. He'd have done something. Insane saviours weren't saviours.