He looked worse than the last time I was here. Gideon was still as stone, lips slightly parted slightly to let in a tube, eyelids sunken darkly. Machines beeped rhythmically around him, an illusion of life. But even in sleep, even in this pathetic, powerless state, I hated him.
I stood by his bed, arms crossed, my breath steady despite the riot in my chest.
"You look like shit," I said quietly, but I'd never meant anything more.
No response, Of course not.
I stepped closer, letting my fingers trail along the steel rail of the bed. "I've taken everything, you know; your empire, your men, your terror. It's mine now. And they listen to me... more than they ever listened to you."
His chest rose and fell with the help of a machine. I wished I could simply turn the machine off or yank a tube away from him so he'd slip away now and here. But I couldn't do that, not with the cameras watching. I may be queen but I couldn't kill the king, that was still treason.
