Chapter 3
A Strong Woman
Aglaia lay in their shared bed, which was raised above the ground on four posts—a rare innovation among the Vasylli. She was in her night-shift of pale linen, propped up with what looked like every single pillow in the house. Her hair wasn’t done. It flowed down her shoulders in an oily mess, framing her face. She did look worse than this morning. The livid spots on her cheek hadn’t been there before.
She turned her dark eyes at him. They had nothing of sickness in them. Only the stubborn patience of a wife who is about to listen to a litany of complaints from a peevish husband.
Every time. Every time he recognized that she knew what was coming. Every time his heart prompted him to calm himself, to let things be. But no. Every time, the fire in his chest got th
