Anne was alone in the parlour, grieving. She didn't know where her boar of a husband was, but she didn't care. She had seen his fake grief and it appalled her. It was evident to her that he had never loved Magnus and that he was part of the reason why her precious boy had gone down the wrong path. And there was more she blamed him for. Half of her grieving time was filled with rage towards her husband. The rest was spent on Pearl. Pearl, the cuckoo ready to tip Anne's true children out of the nest. She had already practically killed her precious Magnus. What was to be done about Pearl?

Anne looked up when she heard Darius. She brought her handkerchief up to her eyes and dabbed them. "Darius, my dear son." She patted the spot next to her, not showing her surprise at seeing him outside of his room. She was genuinely not surprised at the greeting. Darius had always seemed like a particularly feeble-minded child. The sort Spartans would leave out in the woods rather than waste a mother's milk on. He was odd, but useful, she realized for the first time. Darius of all people was the heir now.

She took his face in both her hands and kissed his forehead lovingly. "Forgive me if I am too overcome, my dear. I will try to listen to you." But instead she talked: "A great responsibility rests on your shoulders now, darling. You must be an example to your brothers and sisters and lead them. One day" soon, hopefully, " you will be head of this family." As if. Feebleminded Darius would need every bit of guidance. And Anne was ready to guide and mold and rule.