Chapter 39: ShameIT GOES ON this way for days. The cuts heal. The bruises fade. The endless glasses of dust become a little less numbing. The Exchanged die and the dreams come, and with them, more deaths. But not Ash. Never again Ash.
The fuzzy distance is wearing away, bit by bit. It’s harder to be satisfied with the hungry adoration of the crowd, with Ravel’s calculated attentiveness, harder to surrender to the beat and bounce back after each death.
But I have to be Victoire. There’s nothing else left. Even if I could break away from Ravel, what would be the point?
There comes an hour, a minute, a quiet breath alone in my chamber when I can’t keep it away any longer. My eyes burn and my heart clenches, and a high keening works its way up my throat as the threads of memory weave back t
