I think of him strangling this kingdom and turning it to ash. I think of Lex’s pained eyes after that whipping. I think of the way Pace can never quite relax until he’s alone with me in a room. I think of Wicker, two nights before, and the agony in his eyes when he questioned if his love was real. I think of my mother. But mostly, when I grip a handful of Ashby’s hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat, I think of my son. Of making this kingdom a home for him. Of hope and change.
