LILIANA
Damian still has the painting cradled in his hands as we sit on the bench in the courtyard and talk about my leaving.
I've been holed up here for close to two months and judging by the proof of my innocence, I should be a free woman.
I'm still as a rock as I wait for his final verdict. Something says he won't grant me my wishes.
He sets the canvas down finally, making sure to prop it by the leg of the bench before leaning back and stretching out his legs.
“What you ask is very risky, Milaya. I'm afraid I cannot grant you your request.” His voice is gentle, almost belittling, like he's regarding a little child who is asking for a fifth round of cotton candy.
My irritation spikes and I try to keep it on a low since clashing with him has never done either of us any good.
“I
