“Tell me who it was that you were so wrong about,” she pressed.
He considered feigning sleep, but felt like a coward.
“I hated Queen Lark. Despised her. And I was cruel to her,” he answered.
“Why?”
“Because I loved my brother, and I was afraid she would betray him.”
“But she didn’t?”
“No. She . . . saved him.” Sasha waited silently for him to continue. “I hated Lark—who deserved none of my dislike. But I loved my father.” The sword kept turning.
“Of course you did. I love mine, and I can’t even remember him.”
Damion half laughed, half moaned, grateful for her sweetness even as he raged against it, but her next words had him writhing again.
“And you loved a woman who loved herself above all else.”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. And then her voice grew faint, as if she’d sudde
