Because this was not simple mockery. Mockery would have been easier to resist. This was a blade aimed straight at hope itself. Not he cannot reach you. But you are not worth reaching.
And that—
That was meant to break what torture had not.
For one terrible instant, because pain weakens even the strongest mind, because blood loss dulls the edges of certainty, the thought brushed against her: What if he had chosen the kingdom? What if he had looked at war, at blood, at duty and the weight of a thousand lives—and not chosen her?
What if she was alone?
The doubt was so vicious she almost hated herself for letting it touch her. It tasted like treason.
And perhaps the woman saw that flicker of shadow cross her daughter's face. Perhaps that was exactly what she had been waiting for.
Because she leaned nearer still, voice dropping to a whisper meant only for Liora. The warmth of her breath brushed Liora's ear—familiar, maternal, and utterly monstrous.
