But then I see the redwood throne picking at my bones, scraping me raw until I wither and there is nothing left to be with him. I see a life hollowed out until I don’t even have the energy to want him any longer.
I see my mother and her tear-streaked face as I left. I see my parents alone at their table. I see Emma on the ground, dying from an attack that won’t abate. I imagine kindly Mr. Abbot coming to my shop on instinct, only to remember I’m gone. All of Kleshvar, my home, my patients—my duty to them and, by extension, Midscape—pull on one side of my heart.
Elmir pulls on the other.
No matter what, I won’t survive becoming the Human Queen intact.
“I had an idea of something I’d like to do for you—something that might help you.”
“What is it?” I shift to face him. It places me a hal
