“My Queen,” Teleus began. “Your Majesty,” snarled Attolia. Everyone in the room recoiled, excepting only Teleus. “No,” he said. “Relius was right and I was wrong. You are My Queen. Even though you cut my head from my shoulders, with my last breath as a noose tightens, to the last beat of my heart if I hang from the walls of the palace, you are My Queen. That I have failed you does not change my love for you or my loyalty.” “Yet you prefer his mercy to my justice.”
