Page 81 of Sapphires and Snakes
“And unnecessary.” Her voice softens.
The change brings my head back up, hopeful.
She smiles softly. “And I love it.”
Relief soothes my shoulders. “Good.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
“You’re welcome, princess.” I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. Any other name for her feels wrong in my mouth, tripping and twisting the vowels into knots. She might be a queen, might be a gangster now rather than heir to a Cardinal Family, but she’s a princess to me. Always.
She scowls down her nose at me but doesn’t correct me. I take it as a small victory as I drink up her presence. The candlelight flickers up her legs, gilding her skin. She looks so different than the last time I saw her, covered in blood with her enemy held at gun- and knifepoint. An avenging angel clad in a fluffy robe.
Now she stands wrapped in gold from head to toe, dripping in rubies. All I can think is that she truly has ascended to queen. And I’d gladly bow at her feet.
“You never answered my question.” Zarina breaks the too long quiet between us.
I force my hands out of my pockets to hang empty and open at my sides. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it right. The way she deserves. “All this is an apology.”
“It looks like a proposal.” She takes in the forty-eight candles I lit myself, the rearrangement of the living room, the two glasses next to the bottle of champagne on ice waiting in the corner.
Probably good I forwent the flowers, then.
“Zarina.” I clear my throat and shift my feet. “I failed you in so many ways?—”
She steps forward, reaching for me as if to grab my arm and stop me. “Tamayo?—”
“Let me say this.” I hold her eyes, the gold flecks in them somehow brighter in the lowlight.
She takes a deep breath, clasps her hands together, and nods for me to continue.
I lick my lips, trying to organize the words into something coherent instead of the cascading garble of syllables currently stuck in my throat. “I failed you,” I start. “In ways that have nothing to do with our agreement. We started as unlikely allies, a business deal that erred on the side of personal. And then, living with you, learning you, watching you…”
Emotion burns the back of my eyes, and I try to blink past it. All the ways Zarina surprised me, showed me who she is and what she values, scroll through my head. Each one reminds me how much I fucked up. How much I failed.
And how much rides on this moment.
I continue, “I fell back on the deal, because it allowed me to absolve myself of my responsibility in all this. It allowed me to ignore my feelings and the honesty those feelings required of me.”
“What feelings?” Her voice is barely audible.
“Darius knew the night you showed up at the Den.” A half-grin crooks up the corner of my mouth for the space of a breath before it falls again. I frown at her, appalled at my past actions toward the woman I love. “I think I got my first inkling, though I didn’t want to admit it, the night you held a knife to my throat on the way to Casa Nostra.”
Zarina snorts as I recall the moment I slid into the car and she rested her knife against my jugular. I had spent the week convincing myself and Darius that only lust and respect lay between Zarina and me. But I caved too easily, let her come to Casa Nostra without much of a fight. If I didn’t want her there, I would have stopped her. And I didn’t.
“Before I say it,” I continue, “I need to apologize. You were forced to give up so much—of yourself, of your power—to hold on to your freedom. I should have helped. I should have done something, even if it meant sacrifice.”
Zarina’s eyes shine, and the sight drills a hole through my ribs, directly into my heart. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry, Zarina.” I infuse sincerity into the shape of each letter. “Truly.”
She blinks, like she’s trying to clear the tears before they can fall. The urge to go to her, to comfort her, rises so acutely I almost give into it. But I promised myself she’d set the pace, thetone, and I don’t want to shade my next words with anything other than the blunt intent of them.
“And it’s worse, I think.” I squeeze my hands into fists and release them along with the need to control the outcome of all this. It doesn’t work very well. “Because I love you.”
Zarina’s breath hitches, her face wide open.
“And if I love you,” I whisper, “then how could I fail you so spectacularly? How could I stand by and let you face so much alone?” Shame and guilt overtake me, my gaze dropping to the floor. “And how could you ever forgive me for it?”