Madam Beckett nodded once, calm and unreadable, then gestured for Mervyn to take his place in line.
Her gaze lingered on him longer than necessary.
She still remembered his screams—not long ago at all.
Ordering the guards and servants under Morgan's command to keep the boy away from Mervyn these past few days had been the right choice.
She would not let Morgan see his mother like that. She would not let the child be shaken by a pain he was too young to carry.
That night—when she announced Clyde's marriage to Ryley before the noble elites at the banquet in the Grand Falcon Hotel—she had already made arrangements.
Mervyn had been confined to his room here at headquarters, the doors sealed, the world kept at bay. She had hoped the news would never reach him.
But it did.
"Anna…!"Mervyn's fists had slammed against the door, again and again. His cries were hoarse, desperate. "Anna, please…!"
The sound had torn through the halls until, at last, the doors opened.
