I had done everything - everything for that love. I had ripped myself to shreds, I had killed innocents and debased myself, and he had sat beside Amarantha on that throne. And he couldn't do anything, hadn't risked it - hadn't risked being caught until there was only one night left, and all he'd wanted to do wasn't free me, but fuck me. And when Amarantha had broken me, when she had snapped my bones and made my blood boil in its veins, he'd just knelt and begged her. He hadn't tried to kill her, hadn't crawled for me. Yes, he'd fought for me - but I'd fought harder for him.