“I have made my decision, Mother. I hope you will accept it.” He had expected a ferocious dressing-down. A furious Styrian tirade. Or, worse yet, the deadly gliding off followed by days of icy silence. But all the Queen Dowager of the Union did was cock her head on one side and calmly consider him. “You have grown up, Orso. A bittersweet moment for a mother.”
