“That was before the first time Chandra hurt me,” Malini said crisply. “That ended my childhood fancies abruptly.” He stared at her, uncomprehending. “When,” he said, “did he hurt you, as a child?” She sucked in a breath. He didn’t remember. She wanted to lift her hair and bare her neck. She wanted to show him how she had been hurt; to show him not simply the physical scar but the way Chandra’s cruelties large and small had flayed her sense of self, until she was raw, a furious tangle of nerves, until she was forced to build herself armor, jagged and cruel, to be able to survive. But he would
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