Demanding I follow. Demanding I take her back.
But I don't move.
Because she'smarried.
And I don't know what the fuck that means for us.
10
SENNA
The tea burns my tongue, but I drink it anyway.
Anything to focus on something other than the throbbing ache in my ribs. The sharp sting across my cheekbone. The way my left wrist protests every time I move it, swollen and tender from where Darian wrenched it behind my back.
I shouldn't have come here after Darian stormed out. Shouldn't have dragged myself up the narrow staircase to Mira's tiny apartment above the seamstress shop, leaving a trail of blood-spotted tears on every third step. But I didn't know where else to go.
Staying home wasn't an option. Not after what happened.
Mira's apartment is small—just one room with a bed shoved against the far wall, a rickety table near the window, and a hearth that barely gives off enough heat to keep the space warm. But it's hers. Safe. And right now, that's all I need.
"Drink more." Mira presses the chipped ceramic cup back into my hands, her honey-brown eyes scanning my face with the kind of clinical assessment that makes me want to curl into myself even more. "The meadowmint will help with the pain."
I take another sip, even though I know it won't. Nothing helps with the pain anymore. Not tea. Not time. Not the careful distance I've learned to keep between myself and Darian's fists.
Today, though, I failed at that distance.
Spectacularly.
Mira settles onto the edge of the bed beside me, close enough that our shoulders brush, and I feel her warmth seep through the thin fabric of my dress. She doesn't ask what happened. Doesn't demand an explanation or press me to talk about the bruises already blooming across my skin like ugly flowers.
She just waits.
And somehow, that's worse than if she'd yelled at me.
"I messed up," I whisper finally, the words scraping past the tightness in my throat. "Really messed up this time."
Mira's hand finds mine, her fingers curling gently around my uninjured wrist. "Senna?—"
"I kissed him." The confession spills out before I can stop it, raw and jagged. "The xaphan. Lorenth. He—he came here. To the village. And I kissed him, and Darian saw, and?—"
I can't finish. Can't force the rest of the words past the lump choking me.
Mira goes very still beside me. "Wait. The xaphan you met at the Masquerade?"
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"He camehere? To this village?"
Another nod.
"Senna." Mira's voice shifts, taking on that sharp edge she gets when she's trying not to panic. "You never told me what happened at the Masquerade. You came back and you wouldn't talk about it. I thought—I thought maybe you just had a good time and that was it."
Shame curls hot in my stomach, and I pull my hand free from hers, wrapping both arms around myself instead. "I didn't think it mattered."
"Didn't think itmattered?"
"I didn't think he'd want more than one night." The admission tastes bitter on my tongue. "He's xaphan. A noble, I think, based on his wings. And I'm—I'm nothing. Just some human woman married to a blacksmith in the middle of nowhere. Why would someone like him want someone like me?"
