“I talked to you before.”
“Is it because I am now queen?”
“You were queen prior to today.”
Her golden eyes narrowed, scanning him
for the answer she sought. Dorian let her do it,
and returned the favor. Her breathing was
steady, her posture at ease for once.
“I thought it would be more satisfying. To
see her run.” Her grandmother. “When you
killed your father, what did you feel?”
“Rage. Hate.” He didn’t balk from the truth
in his words, the ugliness.
She chewed on her lower lip, no sign of
those iron teeth. A rare, silent admission of
doubt. “Do you think I should have killed
her?”
“Some might say yes. But humiliating her
like that,” he said, considering, “might
weaken her and the Ironteeth forces more than
her death. Killing her might have rallied the
lily
(lily)
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