It was a grim sort of tale but one that used to give Aster much comfort. A poison so strong that the mere scent of it leveled an entire castle? Perfection. That the king escaped its power was a fluke of the narrative. She used to think that. But Aster understood now that kings don’t die. Even when they do, they have sons, and those sons have sons, and so on. Was that what Lieutenant meant? The Sovereignty is forever.
