“There were riots in the streets. In front of the homes of government officials, who were blamed for the economic crisis. There were different kinds of attacks made. Several attempts at...acid attacks. We were leaving our home when a man pushed up to the front and tried to throw a cup of acid onto my father. He stumbled, though, and the man missed. I was hit instead. I don’t think I need to tell you where,” she said, attempting to smile. Smiling could be difficult enough at the best of times since half of her mouth had trouble obeying that command, but when she didn’t feel like smiling it was completely impossible.
But telling the story was easier when she imagined it was another girl. When she remembered what happened without remembering the pain.
She searched his face. She seemed to have succeeded in shocking him, which was something she hadn’t imagined would be possible.
“So, I think it’s fair to say maybe the people don’t love me as much as you think they do.” She pushed past him now, determined to put an end to this. To this strange bit of torment from the past.
He grabbed hold of her, his hand on her arm sending a rush of heat through her. She breathed in sharply, his scent hitting her, like a punch in the chest.
Her head was swimming. With glittering palaces and silk dresses. Dancing in a sparkling ballroom in a man’s warm embrace. A trip to the garden where his lips almost touched hers. Her full, beautiful lips, unencumbered by scar tissue. It would have been her first kiss. And right then she wanted to weep for the loss of it because now there would never be one.
Not on those lips. They were gone forever.
Not even on the lips she had now. Because she had vowed to never know that pleasure of life. To forego it in favor of serving others, and release her hold on her own needs. Not that it should matter. No man would ever want to kiss her anyway.
But Xander was...he was too much. He was here, right when she didn’t want him, and not fifteen years ago when she’d needed him.
Right now, she didn’t need him. She needed distance. The more Xander filled up her vision, the more faded everything else seemed to become. Xander was a look into a life that she didn’t have anymore. Couldn’t have. Didn’t want.
She just needed him gone. So that she could start to forget again.
“I suppose you should go now,” she said. “Now that you know how it is. If you’re looking for a ticket to salvation, Xander, I’m not it.”
“I’m not interested in salvation,” he said. “But I do want to do the right thing. Novel, isn’t it?”
“Well, I can’t help you. Perhaps it’s best you found your way back to the village.”
“I’m staying here tonight.”
“What?” she asked, shock lancing her.
“I spoke to the abbess, and explained the situation. I don’t want the public knowing I’m here yet, not until I’m ready. And I intend to bring you with me.”
“I see. And nothing of what I said matters?”
He shook his head, his jaw tight. “No.”
“The fact that I’m not me anymore doesn’t matter?”
He studied her face, the cold assessment saying more than any insult could. Before the attack, men...Xander...had never looked at her with ice in their eyes. There had always been heat.