In the private royal chambers, the Queen of Iniko paced slowly.
"She reminds me of that woman," she said coldly.
The King sat in silence.
"That servant," the Queen continued. "The one who thought she could share what was mine."
The King's jaw tightened.
"That was decades ago."
"And yet here we are again," she snapped. "Another illegitimate child daring to rise."
"She is not your enemy."
"She is a reminder," the Queen hissed. "And reminders must be buried."
The King did not argue.
Because long ago, he had chosen peace over passion.
And he had lived with that choice ever since.