Nothing in my experience explains that. Powerful men don't stop. Powerful men take what they want and call it their right. I've spent twenty-four years learning that no doesn't mean anything when the person hearing it is stronger than you.
And he stopped.
I don't know what to do with that. Don't know how to fit it into the framework that's kept me alive this long.
So I lie here, running the same loop, my body refusing to calm down.
His fingers in my mouth. The sugar. The way he watched me swallow.
The way he pulled back like it cost him something.
My eyelids are heavy. The loop keeps running but the edges blur—his hands, his voice, the heat of him three inches away—
I should stay awake. I should think this through. I should—
The thought doesn't finish.
Something pulls me back.
Not a sound. Not a touch. Just—awareness. The prickle at the back of my skull that says someone is in this room.
My eyes open. The dark has shifted. Softer now, the fire burned low.
He's sitting in the chair by the window. Watching me.
Of course he is.
I don't know how long he's been there. Don't know how long I was out. My mouth tastes stale and my neck aches from the angle I fell asleep at and there's a god in my room who's been watching me unconscious and I should probably be more alarmed by that than I am.
"What is this."
The words come out before I decide to say them. My voice sounds scraped. Hours of not sleeping—or maybe hours of sleeping wrong.
Nothing.
"I'm serious." I sit up. Face him. "What is this. You drag me out of Coin. You put me in your rooms. You—" The kitchen. His hands. That sound. "You do that and then you disappear for hours. What am I supposed to do with that?"
"Go back to sleep."
"That's not an answer."
His head tilts. Considering.
"You're still pushing."
"I'm asking questions."
"Same thing." His mouth curves. Not quite a smile. Something sharper. "You do that. Push. Even when you shouldn't."
"Maybe I should. Maybe someone should push back instead of just—"
"Instead of what."
"Instead of letting you make decisions for everyone."
He laughs.
Short. Wrong. The sound bounces off the stone walls and his eyes stay fixed on my face, bright and amused in a way that makes my skin prickle.
