“Cinder, I—” “You can thrall.” I state it as a fact. A terrible truth. You'd think I’d get used to facing them by now, but it still turns my stomach and prickles like needles at the nape of my neck. “Yes, I can, but I almost never use it. Cinder, you can trust me. I promise I would never do anything to hurt you.” He rambles, his words tripping over each other to assure me. “Kai, I know.” “You. . . what?” “I know you won’t hurt me.” The words come out almost defeated. Because despite everything, despite all logic and self-preservation, I do know. I feel it in my bones. “You know,” he says
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