His mother had never forgotten him. Never stopped writing to him. Chaol smiled slightly. “Keep the letters,” he said, steering his chair back to the doors. “Now that she’s left you, it might be your only way to remember her.” He opened the study door and looked over his shoulder. His father remained beside the trunk, stiff as a sword. “I don’t make bargains with bastards,” Chaol said, smiling again as he entered the hall beyond. “I’m certainly not going to start with you.”
GOOD FOR YOU CHAOL 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻
