future of the royal bloodline over fighting
beside her loved ones. And though she never
regretted her choice, the weight of what she
left behind wore on her. I have carried her
burden my entire life.” The crone gestured to
Bronwen, then to Asterin. “All of us who fight
here today do so with someone standing
invisible behind us.”
Asterin’s gold-flecked black eyes softened
a bit. “Yes,” was all Manon’s Second said as
her hand drifted to her abdomen.
Not in memory of the hateful word branded
there, of what had been done to her.
In memory of the stillborn witchling who
had been thrown by Manon’s grandmother
into the fire before Asterin had a chance to
hold her.
In memory of the hunter whom Asterin had
loved, as no Ironteeth ever had loved a man,
and had never gone back to, for shame and
lily
(lily)
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