"Like a crown," Alexander whispers, his fingers touching upon her clavicle.

Alina closes her eyes; tries to see what he sees, the madness that licks at the dark edges of his mind, but try as she might she sees only what it has always been: a gift she did not want, enmeshed upon her shoulders.

"My queen," the general whispers, his fingers trailing down her arms like shadows, pulling her towards the dark.