Arthur remembered the woman in the forest when he was a child, the island sprite who had hidden herself away. The woman who had come for him when he’d returned, unsure, her guilt weighing heavily upon her shoulders. The woman who had picked up a piece of sandpaper and gotten to work building a home out of the remains. The woman who had been with him every step of the way, seeing his plan come to life before his very eyes. His friend—no, his best friend, his sister, this extraordinary queen who had welcomed the children to her island with open arms. She’d laughed with them. She’d cried with
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