Page 54 of Given to the Black King

“Four.”

I look down at the widow’s totals. At the number of winter rations four percent will buy.

“Four.”

The claws ease back beneath the seams at his fingertips. Only then does Perr begin writing.

Torgan gathers the papers. “Draft it.”

For a moment, nobody moves.

Then Perr starts writing.

The victory does not erase the block, the blood, or the boy with the sand. I do not want it to.

When the session ends, Torgan waits until everyone leaves.

I remain at the table.

He comes around to my side. Close enough that his heat reaches me. His hands are clean now. The claws have retracted.

“You are afraid of me,” he says.

“Yes.”

The answer hurts him.

“I was afraid before,” I add. “Now I know more.”

“And you stayed.”

“The widow stayed.”

“That is not why.”

No. It is not.

I look at the hand that ordered the execution and changed the grain policy in the same hour.

“I am not going to love only the parts of you that are easy for me.”

His breath stops.

The word came out before I had agreed to use it.

I feel the room change.

“Iona.”

“I did not say I love you.”

“You said the word.”

“I also said not.”

His mouth almost moves.

I put my hand over his.