The Curse of Saints

by Kate Dramis

he couldn’t deny that flirting with her was like stepping onto the battlefield. Strategy could only get him so far. The rest was giving himself over to the dance of the fight and hoping he could keep up.

“I see you,” he said roughly, giving her shoulders a light squeeze. “I have always seen you. And nothing I see in you is dark, Aya.”

It was as if Aya could feel the strings of the quartet in her very soul, the somber yet sweet composition moving through her blood.

“Sonnoira, mi couera.” Sleep, my heart.