““All right. But rocks, Mother, I hope I’ll never be called king.” “You once hoped you’d never be a soldier.” “Don’t remind me.” His voice was tired. “My life is an apology for the life of my father.” A long silence. Fire sat unbreathing. A life that was an apology for the life of his father: It was a notion she could understand, beyond words and thought. She understood it the way she understood music.””
