6
Kyra stared at the ceiling, her hand resting lightly over her bandaged stomach, which itched with an intensity that made her want to scream.
At least she had privacy.
After their last discussion, Mikos had helped her back to her room and left her alone. She still wasn’t sure how to feel about his claim or his accusations, for that matter. One thing was certain, however. They weren’t the same as they once were.
Growing up they never fought—at least not once she’d gotten over being a little kid. Generally, she went along with whatever he said. He’d explain traditions to her, and she’d accept them. He’d tell her how the world worked, and she believed him.
On that count, he was right. She shouldn’t have loved him. Which meant that the one thing she’d held on to for all these years was
