Florian didn't know what to say to that.
His lips parted, but the words caught in his throat, leaving only silence.
He could only stare at Monica, at the faint tremble in her shoulders, at the way her pink eyes glistened with unshed tears before she quickly blinked them away and forced herself to breathe.
When she looked back at him, there was a smile on her face again—but it was too brittle, too deliberate.
'Hendrix did say she felt awful… that Monica was offered to become a concubine in exchange for her kingdom's prosperity but…'
Florian's frown deepened, his chest tight with unease.
'He never said she never loved Henry. Or that she carried this much guilt…'
"As far as Hendrix knows," Monica said softly, her voice smoothing into something careful, "his father and I ended up falling in love—loving each other until Henry's death. That I was truly happy, only burdened by small guilts."
