Cheth seems to take great pleasure in Phaedra’s shock and silence. His horde of puppets watches from the shadows as he lectures the soon-to-be newest soul and Phaedra hugs herself, eyes shadowed.
Cheth: Don’t know? I do. I remember every single soul I collect - they always mention the little ones they’ve left behind.
The little girl chimes in now, teddy bear in hand, already satisfied with the sureness of her victory.
Cheth: But you royals never concern yourselves with such trivial things, do you? You’re only ever concerned with victories, never with-
Phaedra: Two hundred seventeen.
The girl with pigtails beams and holds her teddy bear aloft playfully.
Cheth: Right! Never with two hundred sev- … Pardon?
She turns, startled by Phaedra’s correct answer, delivered with grim certainty, and none of her lofty confidence. The princess looks back with a slump in her shoulders and resignation in her eyes.
Phaedra: Two hundred seventeen children lost a parent in that battle. Including me.
All of the fight seems to have gone out of Phaedra, and several of Cheth’s ghosts turn their full attention onto her. They’re surprised, and maybe a little sympathetic.
