Emily Varga

in a fierce frenzy, by candlelight, devouring you until I finished every page and committed it to memory, and then I’d flip right back to the front and start again from the beginning.”

“I’d read you like scripture, a prayer. And all the worship I felt, I’d heap at your feet.”

Until he begged for me like a dying man in the desert, and I the mirage that could have saved him.

And in the end decided to let him starve.

A history of women and girls being wronged by men who never had any consequences.

He grinned, blood leaking from his lip, his dark eyes focused wholly on me.

“You know I’d follow you anywhere, Dani.”

I was a frivolous, beautiful confection. Not a warrior. But he didn’t know warriors could wear jewels just as well.

I didn’t hate the way he looked at me when our eyes met. Like he could consume me.

Like he was scheduled for execution and I was his final meal.

But he’s not looking at you. He’s looking at Sanaya.

“Did you think I wouldn’t know you? I’d know you with any face. Any skin. Any hair. A thousand djinn could disguise you from me and I’d still be able to find you just by the sound of your breath.”

Our blades flashed in the afternoon sun, meeting in the air like old friends.

And when it was done and the students had gone home, it was just him and me, healing the scars we couldn’t see, being for each other what we most needed in the dark.