Lancelot did nothing to stop himself from fuming with anger. He would no longer pretend and allow his mother do as she pleased. He was tired, genuinely tired of allowing her kick everybody around for her own pleasure. Today, he would set her straight and remind her of all the lines she could not cross; each and everyone of them.

With a sturdy gaze and irritation stirring and boiling his temper, he dashed out the door of the banquet hall, and did nothing to stop himself from crashing ...