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She replayed what she’d said. The shock on his face, as if he hadn’t realised what he was like until she’d told him.
“This is war.” His voice came from somewhere beyond the bodies crowding around her. “You don’t get to want; you get to live or die.”
She rarely drank alcohol, and now she was reminded why. It felt so much better to feel like this than the way she actually felt all the time: like a raw nerve.
It was not an “honourable” war. Morrough wanted people to be afraid or dead.
The Guild Assembly defended the attacks, saying that the hospitals were run by the Eternal Flame as covers for military bases, and the surrounding countries swallowed the lie, because it was easier than involving themselves in Paladia’s conflict.
“You made me feel like the parts of me that aren’t useful still deserve to exist. Like I’m not just all the things I can do.”
Like a star, he was glittering and ice-cold from afar, but when the space was bridged, the heat of him was endless.
By making privileges always at the expense of others, the prisoners forget who has made those rules.
“We don’t get to have all the things we want in this life. Remember? You were the one who told me that. You said there was a point when I had to realise I wasn’t going to get everything I wanted, and I had to choose and let it be enough. I thought we chose this. Have I been lying to myself this whole time?”
