"I tried?—"
"Youtried?" He laughed—short, ugly. "You said 'wait' and then sat back down like a good little princess. Very heroic. I'm sure Yara appreciated it while they flayed her back open."
The words hit like someone shoving a blade between my ribs. Because he was right. I had done nothing. Said nothing that mattered. Just watched, like everyone else. I should have gone to my father, should have interfered.
"Hakan." Sarp's voice was sharp now. "That's enough."
"Is it?" Hakan didn't look at his friend, his eyes locked on mine. "The princess seems to think she's better than the rest of us. Thought she should know she's not."
"I never said?—"
"You didn't have to." He stepped closer—too close—and his voice dropped to something only I could hear. My heart started beating faster. His scent enveloped me as I took a sharp breath. "Still wearing white, little sun. Still playing pure. Does it help you sleep at night? Pretending you're different from them?"
"Iamdifferent?—"
"You'renothing." The word was a slap. "Just another golden-blooded hypocrite crying pretty tears over broken things you'll never actually fix."
My hands were shaking. "Hakan, you know my stand on this. We used to be friends."
"Were we?" His smile was cruel. "I remember a stupid girl who used to follow me around like a lost puppy. Who thought because I was nice to her once, it meant something." He leaned closer, breath warm against my ear. "It didn't. You were just convenient. Something to pass the time until I got bored."
I went rigid.
"Jasmine," he murmured, so soft only I could hear. My stomach dropped. "Still can't smell it without thinking of me, can you? Without remembering how youbegged."
My breath stopped.
"Hakan—"
"'Please, Hakan. Just once. No one has to know.'" His voice was a perfect, mocking imitation of who I'd been a century ago. The words I'd whispered in the dark, trembling, terrified, desperate. Words I'd never told anyone. Words I'd tried to burn from my own memory.
"Stop." The word came out broken.
"I could have had you right there against the garden wall. You would have let me. You would havethankedme." He leaned closer, lips brushing my ear. "But why would I want Gün Ata's desperate little virgin when I could have anyone? You weren't even worth the effort of saying no nicely."
Sarp shifted beside us, clearly unable to hear but reading the tension. "Should I fetch a priest? Last rites? Because one of you is about to die and I'd rather not be implicated."
Neither of us looked at him.
Hakan was watching me—watching my hands shake, watching three years of carefully buried shame claw its way back to the surface.
"Still wet for me, princess?" His smile was filthy, cruel. "Still touching yourself at night wondering what you missed?"
My palm cracked across his face before I knew I'd moved.
The sound echoed through the market. Hakan's head barely turned. When he looked at me again, his cheek reddening, something burned in those green eyes. Something that looked nothing like hatred.
"There she is," he said softly. "Knew she was still in there somewhere."
"I hate you." My voice shook, but I didn't care anymore. "Ihateyou, Hakan Bürsin."
"Feelings are mutual, princess." He smiled—a real smile, dark and devastating.
He turned and walked away. After a moment's hesitation, Sarp followed, but not before throwing me an apologetic look over his shoulder.
"You didn't have to do that," I heard Sarp say, voice tight. "That was cruel even for you."
"She needed to hear it."
