Kate swallowed hard, her heart swelling to know that she had a friend who understood her pain. “I try not to look upon their faces for too long when I come by here. When I see them, I . . .” She exhaled shakily. “It so strange. Sometimes I can’t see anything past the darkness of my grief. Other times I’m angry, so angry that they left me to deal with all this on my own. And I know how selfish that sounds, but I can’t help how I feel. So, don’t you see? I can’t let myself cry. If I cry again I might not ever be able to stop.”
“You should know, princess . . .” Aron’s voice cut between them as effectively as the edge of a blade. “The king has instructed that these portraits— apart from the one of you, of course—are to be taken down and replaced with those of the Damoras.”
Kate spun to face
