The words tangle.
I cross myself. Once. Twice. Again. The motion grows faster. My fingers blur.
"I reject—" My breath stumbles. "I reject the lies spoken in darkness."
He would have you bent and trembling in a barn so he may ease himself before the wedding fire is lit.
My pulse jumps at the memory.
"I will marry Radu," I say quickly. "I will obey. I will—"
You want me to take you.
"No," I whisper fiercely.
My body rocks forward and back. My knees throb, raw against the floor. Sweat clings to my temples. My hair falls loose around my face.
"Cleanse me," I breathe again. "Strip it from me."
You want the tree. The height. The fall.
I bow so hard my teeth strike together.
His teeth on my throat. The bite.
My thighs press together involuntarily. Heat flares where I do not want it.
I strike my chest with my fist.
"Impure," I whisper. "Impure."
The word lands like a stone.
I bow again. I lose count.
The prayer repeats until it becomes breath, until it dissolves into sound without meaning.
"Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy."
My knees ache. Skin scrapes raw beneath the wool of my skirts. Sweat gathers at my temples and slides down my neck. My hair loosens from its braid and falls forward, clinging to my cheeks.
His hand guiding mine around the knife.
His mouth at my wrist.
You wrapped yourself in thorns. But you are sweetness through and through.
I choke on the memory.
"I am Yours," I say, louder now. "I am Yours."
My body trembles with the effort of kneeling upright. My arms shake. My breath tears in and out.
I do not need you to see what I am about to do to you.
I bow again, but the cross above the hearth only stares back in silence.
By the time my body falters, I am bent forward on shaking arms, breath tearing in and out of my chest. My skirts are twisted. My hands tremble against the floor. My knees are red and swollen where they pressed the wood.
