Page 47

She was my rock and I had fucking hurt her.

My heart shattered and I was thankful for it. I needed it to break. I needed it to be decimated so maybe I could rebuild into someone that didn’t destroy the things they loved.

Fragments of memories flashed behind my eyes and I could feel my throat closing.

Their hands .

Their fucking hands pulling at my body.

Every inch of my skin crawled and I wanted to peel it from my flesh.

They had tainted me—had violated me.

I could swallow the torture, I could face that.

But this. How does one face this?

I would never be able to replace what they took from me and that made me fucking angry. Angry at myself for not fighting harder. Angry at the Gods for letting them steal from me.

They were dead now.

At least they should be, given the amount of blood that covered Cin’s body.

But it didn’t feel like enough.

It didn’t feel like anything would ever be enough to fix this pain.

Cin held me as I sobbed, her arms a fortress around my broken body. I clung to her, my fingers digging into the fabric of her tunic, uncaring of the blood that stained it. Her heart beat steadily beneath my ear, a soothing rhythm that thumped against the torrent of my tears.

“I’m here,” she murmured, her lips pressed against the crown of my head. “I’m right here, Ata. I’ve got you. You’ll be okay.”

I wanted to believe her, to let her words wrap around me. But the wounds were too fresh, the memories too raw. They clawed at my mind, vicious and unrelenting, threatening to drag me back into that dark abyss of despair that had become my home.

“I can’t . . .” I choked out, my voice muffled against her chest. “I can’t do this, Cin. I’m not strong enough.”

She pulled back then, just enough to cup my face in her hands. Her thumbs brushed away the tears that still leaked from the corners of my eyes, infinitely gentle.

“You are the strongest person I know.” Her words were fierce as her gaze bore into mine. “You have survived terrors that would break anyone. You will survive this too.”

I shook my head, nausea roiling in my stomach at the motion as a fresh wave of anguish crashed over me.

“But what if I don’t want to? What if I’m tired of just surviving?” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, but I couldn’t hold them back. It was a truth that I finally had to face. “They took something from me, Cin. Something I can never get back.”

Understanding flashed in her eyes, followed by a sorrow so deep it stole my breath.

“I know,” she whispered. “Gods, Ata, I know. And I would give anything to take away your pain, to erase the memories—”

“But you can’t.” The words came out sharper than I intended and I saw her flinch at that venom creeping back into my bloodstream, at the demons forcing out the light.

“No, I can’t,” she agreed, her voice heavy but soft. “But I can be here for you, in whatever way you need. Whether you want to scream, or cry, or rage against the unfairness of it all. I can listen, and hold you, and remind you that you are not alone.”

Something in me cracked at her words, a fissure in the wall of numbness I’d trapped myself behind.

“I’m so tired. I’m tired of hurting, of being angry and afraid all the fucking time. I don’t know how to do this, Cin.” The admission was barely audible, the words catching in my throat. “I-I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Her fingers slipped beneath my chin, gently tilting my head up to meet her gaze. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but they still held that fierce, unwavering love that had always been my anchor.

“I love you, Ata. And I will love you all the same while you figure it out.”

Fresh tears began to fall on the tail of her words. I swallowed hard, trying to force them back and failed as they slid down my face.

I was so fucking tired of crying, of feeling weak and broken.

“I am so sorry, Cin.” The words were a wail as they exploded out of me. “I am so sorry for pushing you away. For being so caught up in my own pain that I didn’t see yours. For all the foul things I have said and done. For putting my hands on you. For forcing you to kill for me—”

Her hands shot to the side of my face and snapped my head toward her.

“I would kill a thousand men to keep you safe. You are my sister, Ataliia. I would tear Nimbria apart with my bare hands for you.” Something dark and fierce flashed in her eyes and a shiver skidded down my spine at the conviction in her words.

And I knew she meant them—with every fiber of her being, she meant them.

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to mine as silence fell over the room and for the first time since Ardan died, I wasn’t scared to sit in the quiet with her.

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that, intertwined on the narrow bed, silent tears falling down our cheeks as an echo of our shared grief. All I knew is that I had her again, and I would never let her go.

She had changed so much since coming to Locdragoon and pride flared in my chest at just how strong she had become.

She was everything that one day I hoped to be.

There was a weight on her shoulders I did not envy, but she carried it with such grace that I knew if she hadn’t been born a God, she would have been born a Queen.

“There are some things I need to take care of,” Cin said, her voice hushed as she slipped from the bed.

My skin chilled at the loss of her touch and I watched as she pushed a curl behind her ear.

“If you are comfortable with it, I would like Dukovich to stay with you until Andrues gets back to Locdragoon to finish your healing. If I can, I will be back before then.”

I nodded in silent agreement as she moved for the door.

“Cin—” I hesitated, watching as she brought her eyes back to mine. “I love you.”

A sad smile crossed her lips as she strode back to my bedside and pressed her lips to my forehead. “I love you back, Ata.”

She tethered from the room and the space felt empty without her presence as I shifted in the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I didn’t pull my eyes away from the stones above me as the door opened and closed.

The heavy thud of Dukovich’s boots echoed off the walls as he trudged to my bedside and lowered himself back into the chair beside me. Tears slid from the corners of my eyes down my face but I refused to look at him. He was the last person I wanted to see me cry.

The crumbling of my soul started at birth.

I think that some women were born with despair in their veins and I was beginning to believe I was one of them.

For as long as I could remember, there was a darkness lingering just under the surface, waiting for the moment it could take hold of the light. It found that moment when I became his prisoner, and I didn’t know if I could ever forgive him for that.

“Ataliia,” Dukovich whispered, his voice tight as his hand slid across the bed, reaching for me.

I pulled away, crossing my arms over my middle, and could have sworn I heard his heart beating in the silence.

He shifted in his seat. “The scars . . . are they . . . are they from—”

“Yes.” I didn’t need to hear the rest of his words to know what he was asking.

A growl rumbled in his chest. “Every one of the men that touched you, the Priestesses—I will kill them for what they have done to you. Every finger, every hand that marked your skin, I will sever them from their bodies and bring them to you. I will not stop until you have their heads.”