"He is punishing you," Portia said, her voice cracking. "And for what? For loving too loyally? For serving him for thirty years without ever asking for anything? He's forgotten everything you've done, everything you've given up—and for what? For someone who looks like a ghost from his past?"
Her chest heaved.
"Even an animal shows gratitude to someone who feeds them for a month. But a king? He takes and takes, and when he's done, he banishes the woman who gave him everything."
"Enough," the Queen said, voice trembling.
Portia didn't stop. "He doesn't value you, Mother. He doesn't respect you. And I cannot let him get away with it."
Crack.
The Queen's hand came down across Portia's cheek, sudden and sharp.
The silence that followed was heavier than stone.
Portia staggered slightly from the force of it. Her cheek burned with the sting, and her eyes welled instantly — not just from pain, but from heartbreak.
The Queen stared at her own trembling hand in horror, her lips parted.
