Page 85 of The Forsaken

More than that, he made Andromena see her own worth.

Moisture dampened her cheeks.

She touched the tears she hadn’t known were falling.

But then, that just reminded her he hated her tears. And why…

“…They tear me apart, and I hate feeling torn apart…”

And she couldn’t stop them, and told herself she didn’t have to, because he wasn’t around to see them, and that only made her cry more. Her muffled weeping filled the stables.

And it was too much. She had hurt so much, carried so much. The one person who believed in her, and challenged her like an equal. He did not see her some nitwit. She missed him, despite the mere hour apart, for she knew—it would be a lifetime missed.

She sank to the hard packed floor and sobbed. She curled onto her side, amidst dirt, straw, and ancient hay, and held herself.

She wept for what she wanted—Edgar. And sobbed harder because she could not have him.

She cried until her body hurt and then kept crying, until her cheeks were hot and her nose ran.

She screamed “Why?” until her throat burned and she went hoarse, and there was another drop to shed.

Spent, Andromena’s tears subsided to steady hiccoughs, and then nothing.

Sprawled on her back, her chest rising and falling fast, she stared through the cracks in the slipped roof slates at the stars they let through, and some of the weight within her had lifted with the tears. In releasing them, it was as though she had been released. It had been cathartic. Healing. And she saw.

Truly saw, with a clarity she hadn’t possessed for the first time since that first note arrived.

This wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t made herself a victim. Someone else had done this. Someone else deserved the guilt and shame.

She had spent so much time hating herself for the problems she had brought upon herself and her family—Edgar—she had blamed herself. If only she hadn’t gone to Lord Rutland’s masquerade, she told herself. If only she’d stayed safely tucked away and never hungered for adventure…

But none of this was her fault.

She had longed to experience the thrill of a masquerade. It wasn’t wrong. What was wrong was that someone had used it to punish her and rob her.

“…You never wanted to leave—or you never thought about it because your family and society told you it wasn’t allowed…”

That morning, he’d spoken those words, and she had resented them. Now, she appreciated that he’d made her see things she hadn’t.

She did want to see more, and she wanted to be free to live and move without fear; of recrimination, of harm from ruthless men… and she wanted that life with Edgar. Not because he’d be her protector and savior, which he would, but because he helped her see the world—its darkest parts that she needed to protect herself from. And he did so not to scare her or hurt her, but so she was aware of the dangers around her, so she could protect herself.

She wiped her nose on the hood of her cloak.

Wait.

That horse vocalization was deeper and lower, and less afraid than Charlie’s.

The crunch of boot falls filtered in from outside as a rider dismounted.

Her heart thudded dully. It was only a matter of time. He had found her, just as he had always lurked in the shadows, tracking her movements, her clothes, even her time with Edgar. The most egregious affront. Reaching inside her cloak, she drew the muff pistol. Edgar had taught her well after the Rookeries; he would be proud. She found her strength from him.

Maybe that was why, as her blackmailer raced towards the cottage, a strange calm took hold.

As her veins burned hot and her vision narrowed to sharp clarity, she knew the coward had robbed her of freedom, her first London Season, and her future. But his greatest sin—the one she would kill him for—was denying her Edgar. Not that Edgar had ever been hers, but her blackmailer hadn’t helped.

Using every quiet skill she learned playing hide-and-seek, Andromena pushed herself to her feet. She tiptoed across crushed remnants of hay and dung and sharp stone. When she reached the side of the heavy stable doors, she brought her pistol close, and waited.

Chapter 16