“That is because you are a woman.” Augustin’s unfeeling voice clawed at my soul, his hands grasping my heart so fiercely that I almost felt physical pain. “You women cling to love as the answer to all wrongs, the triumph over evil. Your heart is soft, while mine will forever be a hard stone, unforgiving, unyielding.”
“But you weep for her still,” I reminded him, lifting my head to meet his eyes, blinking my tears away. “Just a moment ago, I held you while you cried for your mother. You have not forgotten how to love, or you would not have brought me here to face your grief . . . Augustin.”
My bitter priest stared down at me, the anger gradually seeping out of his eyes, his hands caressing my heart more tenderly now. “It is too late for me to change, Swanhilde,” he murmured, regret tingei
