Framed

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Chapter 49 The Future Queen’s Memory

They say history is written by the victors. But memory? Memory belongs to the guilty.

I remember the day Calyx was born.

The torches dimmed. The air chilled. The midwives whispered. My mother wept.

He didn’t cry. He didn’t blink. He simply stared—eyes black as void, skin pale as frost. I was only...