[ Animal impulse tells Iorveth to say something biting, like case in point, but he realizes that this isn't about him being right (shocker, he isn't), or proving a point (which has been how he navigated the world for decades, almost a century); it's about what he's said, and how that was received.

An awkward, hanging moment later: ]

I don't want to get rid of you.

[ This, first and foremost. To get it out of the way. The rest is something he has to wrestle with, which he knows is not a flattering look－ it isn't that being honest is difficult, it's that the contents of his words feel like sandpaper between his teeth. Petty, small. ]

It's only that it's been easier. For me. To think that you would land on your feet if you left.

[ Does this make sense? Iorveth doesn't quite know. ]

You said you'd stay. It's no fault of yours that I struggle with the notion.

[ "I don't deserve you" is a thought that's no one's fault but Iorveth's. A bitter pill to swallow, but one he keeps in the back of his throat. ]