"What makes you think you can keep barging into my chambers like this to judge me?" the king finally rasped. "Who are you to say where I'll end up in the next life?"
"Of course I can't say for sure. Only you know what sins you'll need to beg pardon for, when you meet your maker." Celia shrugged.
Stark fear glazed his eyes again.
"If you ignore all those who perish in these floods, I guess you can just add that to your list of sins to seek pardon for, right?" she asked.
The two of them glared at each other, a silent meeting of wills.
But it was the king who looked away first.
"Such a tender heart you have, Daughter." he crooned. "Especially for the poor. Even more so when they're not even Islian poor."
"They became my people too, the day I married Tobin. As much as he likes calling me a foreign bitch, I want to do right by our subjects. That's what a royal lady does. Besides, I'm thinking strategically."
"Oh?"
