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beware the female whose desire to hurt burns hotter than her desire to heal.”
“I’d rather think I transcend either, my dear.”
“Call me Esra, call me darling, call me bitch, for all I care,” he says, his hand reaching for hers. “But never lower me to such mundane names as man or woman. For the purposes of our impending friendship, though, I suppose you can say he when you must, if only for lack of a better word.”
“Not a desirable trait, is it? For a woman to be arrogant? On a man, it charms, but in women, it corners us. A self-assured woman is either a harlot or embittered.”
“Did it scare you, Ryon? Tell me, what will you do if I kiss you again?” He grabs her wrist and pulls her down the path. “I will bury myself inside you, Dawsyn. And yes, it scares me.”
“Ryon,” she says, swallowing hard, “why did they carve my grandmother into stone?” He pauses for a long moment before he answers, “She was their princess, Dawsyn. The crown princess of Terrsaw.”
She guesses that for all their differences, he might just be the only other creature in their world who was born and made as she was. Perhaps souls like theirs can only wander so far before they collide.
“Every part tempts me, girl. Every inch. You can keep yourself from me all you like, but not one part of you won’t be branded to my memory.”
I will not sift through her choices and dispose of the ones that make me afraid. They are not mine.”
“There is absolutely no magic in this to protect you, I’m afraid,” Baltisse smiles. “I just want you to have something of me near your heart when you cut Vasteel’s from his chest.”
“Not once in my life have I changed my mind.”
