Page 208 of Curse of Darkness
He touched me.
And I touched him.
Curling my fingers into a fist, I try to ignore the sensation of his skin imprinted against mine. I haven’t felt another’s skin in months. It’s not the sort of thing I ever thought I’d miss until I wasn’t able to feel it.
“You will never touch another fae for as long as you live. Your touch will burn, your soul will wither, and your flesh will beg for relief, but there shall be none to be found.”
Adaia’s words echo through me.
He shouldn’t be standing right now.
What if it’s not impossible?
What if the curse is broken somehow?
The heat bleeds from my extremities.
I could have Andraste.
Regardless of his words, there has to be a chance.
“What?” The arrogant prick arches a brow as he brushes imaginary dust off his braided leather tunic. “Did that bitch steal your tongue too?”
“Fuck you.”
He stares at me. And then he laughs. “Too easy,” he mutters under his breath. “Go back to camp, Edain. Get some sleep. You look like shit.” He throws a glance at the tree. “And she’s not worth destroying yourself over.”
“I thought that’s what you’d want?”
Lysander sighs as he backs away. “Don’t let her drag you down. She’s gone, Edain. Gone. And she was never going to give you what you want from her.”
“I don’t want anything from her.”
“No? Not even an apology?”
The breath catches in my lungs. The idea’s ludicrous. I don’t want an apology. Adaia would never dream of even issuing one. I wanted her dead. I wanted her….
I want her to admit what she did to me was wrong.
I want her to understand that she fucking tookeverythingfrom me.
“You can spend forever waiting for someone to acknowledge what they did to you,” Lysander says, meeting my gaze. For once, that fucking smile I hate so much is nowhere to be seen. “Or you can push that burden back upon them. It’s not your responsibility to force them to accept what they did to you. Chances are, you’ll never get it, and if you’re waiting for someone else to let you move on, then you put the power of your emancipation back in their hands. You owe yourself nothing more than to give yourself space to heal. Their route to forgiveness is not your burden.”
The blood drains from my face.
Because for the first time, I realize I’m not the only victim here.
Adaia gave the order to kill him, but I didn’t fight that hard.
I gave up fighting years ago.
And he sees it.
Maybe that’s acknowledgement enough.
Lysander nods once. “I’m not going to kill you,” he says quietly. “This is enough for me.”
And then he turns and walks away.
