Mircea lounged in the gigantic tea garden King Kirill had made for his late wife, with Este. She was trying to and failing to cease thinking about what had happened yesterday night. Her brain was not helping her in the least.
Urban had been married all this time, and he had killed his own wife. He had killed his wife, the thought made Mircea shudder. She had loved him and he had turned out just like her cruel sister and her best-friend.
Saints, her world had already crippled into nothing. How deep was life going to pull her into its ruins? Was there a way out?
Mircea didn't know. She recalled how Frey had simply walked away after saying the most hurtful words. She had heard a load of them from Faustina and Lilith but at that time she was overdosed on a poison and wasn't in the right mind to process the words. However, last night was different. She had heard everything clearly, and processed it as well.
"Yes," He said, "I hate you."
