( Edmund levers himself to his feet, his crutches again clattering to the ground. There's nothing impressive about his height nor the trembling set of his shoulders, but anger makes him incandescent. ) It's a boon, my lady. My gift to you. ( He whispers the words, his lips drawn back into a snarl. This is what he had been waiting for, even as the self-recrimination begins to settle in around the anger. This is his sister, the only person left for him in the world. ) Clean it up, then. You've spent so long pretending not to be a queen that it's high time that you proved how deep your denial goes.

( It's cruel, crueler perhaps than Edmund has ever been, but he needs to lash out. He needs to know that she's hurting as badly as he is. He needs solidarity, and she's shown him none. )