Chapter Sixty Three
The hope that had exploded in Elrien's chest felt like sunlight.
"I made this for the baby. For my brother." He whispered, his voice tiny and careful, not to ruin his mother's mood.
The queen unwrapped the gift slowly, examining every inch of the wooden horse with careful attention.
Elrien had held his breath, watching her face for any sign of approval.
She held it up to the light, turning it this way and that, and for a moment, something that might have been surprise flickered across her features.
Then her lip curled with disgust.
"This crooked thing?" she said, her voice dripping with contempt.
"These uneven legs? This pathetic excuse for paint?" She traced each flaw with one finger, pointing out every imperfection.
"Did you really think I would let something so ugly touch my perfect child?"
The hope in Elrien's chest died with a sound like breaking glass as he flinched away from his mother's anger.
