RIVEN
The study was being illuminated solely by candles; their flickering light cast shadows all over Lena's face as she hunched over the parchment for what had to have been at least the twentieth time. She had written and crossed out and rewritten, started over so often that we were halfway through a stack of expensive paper.
“This is not possible,” she muttered; slamming the quill on the desk. “Impossible for me to convince [the] one who believes that I betrayed him that I am telling the truth.” What could anyone say that would repair the damage of Selena’s lies?”
“Try beginning with the truth,” I proposed, pushing a new sheet of parchment toward her. "Simple, direct, honest. Do not mince words with him or make excuses for him.”
"The facts are terrible," murmured Lena. “The truth is,
