“How many?” I scream back at him, finding the strength to face him. “How many starved? How many murdered? How many children taken away to die? How many, my prince?” I thought I knew hate before today. I was wrong. About myself, about Cal, about everything. The pain makes my head spin, but somehow I keep my feet, somehow I keep myself from falling. He will never choose me. “My brother, Kilorn’s father, Tristan, Walsh!” What feels like a hundred names explode from me, rattling off all the lost ones. They mean nothing to Cal but everything to me. And I know there are thousands, millions more. A
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