Bitterness is the aftertaste that comes after the sweetness has time to fade, and her life had been very sweet. And she had time. Too much time.
The sweetness of their time together was fading fast, and the bitterness welled up in her heart, murky as muddy water, sharp as the scent of burnt sugar. She missed him more than she could bear. Of course she did; how could she not? He had told her… told her not to miss him, to live the years – so many years! – that she had left with joy. How? She wanted to scream and scream and cry until she had nothing left, a river of tears and grief and pain that she could drown and leave this life behind. But she could not. She was Daein's Dawn, its Queen. The people loved her, grieved with her. The children threw flowers at her feet. They needed her, and their need tied her tighter than any chain. She was suffocating. No breath, her fingers twitching and pale, bloodless. She was crumpling beneath the weight of their love – was it love? His love had never felt this way – but she couldn't die. Wasn't that her problem? She wanted death, but did not have the courage to reach for it, not when there was still suffering she could cure, not when sacrifice was still her meaning, her calling. It was, it had always been. But she was never called upon to give them her death; no, she gave life. Over and over and over. He had been her strength, and now she had only the memory of him. It wasn't enough, but it had to be.