"Even an animal shows gratitude to someone who feeds them for a month. But a king? He takes and takes, and when he is done, he banishes the woman who gave him everything."
"Enough," the Queen said, voice trembling.
Portia didn't stop. "He doesn't value you, Mother. He doesn't respect you. And I cannot let him get away with it."
Crack.
The Queen's hand came down across Portia's cheek, sudden and sharp.
The silence that followed was heavier than stone.
Portia staggered slightly from the force of it. Her cheek burned with the sting, and her eyes welled instantly, not just from pain, but from heartbreak.
The Queen stared at her own trembling hand in horror, her lips parted.
"I…" she tried to speak, but the words dissolved. "I didn't mean—Portia…"
Portia, tears slipping down her cheeks, looked at her mother—not with anger, but with resolve.
"I don't care what he says," she whispered. "I won't let him break you."
