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Just because you said that, I’m going to make sure I live, he says.
You can always talk to me, Roxi, even if you’re mad at me. Even if you despise me. He pauses. Will you do that? Will you speak to me, even in anger? Because I don’t think I can take more of your silence.
We’ll see about that.
“It was frightening you.” In his words, I hear the boy I grew up with—the vulnerable, sweet boy who whispered kind words to me late at night and confessed truths he told no one else.
“You don’t need to change yourself to please me.”
“No,” I say grumpily, “I’m completely inept at this one very necessary life skill. Yes, of course I know how to build a fire.”
“You think me a barbarian?” He laughs, the haunting sound carrying on the wind. “I will give you barbarous.”
“So which is it?” I finally murmur. “Are you kind and gentle or ferocious and violent?” Memnon searches my face. “I’m all of it,” he admits sorrowfully. The weight of that confession looks heavy. “And I am sorry for it.” He bows his head. “But all of me—all my power, all that you love and fear about me—I lay it at your feet. It is yours.”
I wonder if people have died like this—intoxicated on their own happiness.
“Disrespect me, and I will punish you. Disrespect your queen, and I will kill you.”