Seventy-three:
Queen Tatiana
There was much to discuss.
I started with my son.
Once he wasn’t trapped in stone any longer, and the discussion of what to do with Gretel calmed down, I walked over to where Clark stood. He was staring at the throne, a look of contempt on his face. “What are you thinking about, my dear boy?” I asked.
He smiled, and he pulled me into a hug. “It’s good to see you, Mother. I’m glad that you aren’t cursed anymore.”
“So am I,” I said, “but you seem to have something heavy swirling in that mind of yours. I can tell. It’s the same look that I have when there’s something heavy swirling in my mind. You’re thinking about the throne, aren’t you?”
“I can’t take it,” he said.
