Eight hours until execution.
"I remember something else." Cian slides closer to me. "It's faint like a painting I can't quite touch."
My head cocks in his direction. "No more proverbial mist?"
His face twists with confusion. "Oh, because I said earlier that it felt like a mist." I smirk. "Listen, if you don't want to help me with my memory, then say so."
"I don't want to help you retrieve your memory," I say, but I do. I need him to remember it all. I need him to understand why I'm going to kill him the second I get the chance. Unless it comes before I've escaped in which case it his imminent death will follow that priority.
His face drops, I huff at the dripping ceiling and say, "Let's hear it."
"You sure? Wouldn't want to ruin your perfectly fine day with the inconvenience of my affliction."
"No, your acknowledgement of my trouble is sufficient. Go on."
His jaw ticks, but because there's little else to do in here and no one else to talk to, he tells me any way. "It's a memory of you in a ridiculous dress dancing with a girl I know but can't remember."
My breath catches and I choke. The memory seeps into my mind, a murky, sludgy, landslide. The warmth of her smile of her hand in mine. The music and food and misguided attempts of fool to fix something she had no control over. I remember the smooth black strands framing her face. The lilt in her laugh.
"Liv," I say, the sound softer than raven's feather. "Her name was Liv."
YOU ARE READING
All's Fair in Revenge
FantasyComplete! Hana is the daughter of a renowned healer in the raiding village of Srisset but she would much rather stab someone than mend them, she'd rather fight on the front line than stand behind it, and she'd much rather gut the Dorsi soldier who k...
