In the beginning, he’d been hopeful that she’d find some way to forgive him for what had happened to Keris. That in time, she might accept his troth. But that hope had died somewhere in his midtwenties when it became crystal clear that she had no intention of ever seeing his pledge met. Rather, she took a perverse pleasure whenever she opened up his back before their families, and abandoned him to their ridicule and scorn.

When he’d turned thirty, he’d gone to his mother on the eve of another humiliation, and had begged her to negotiate a rare severance with Dariana.

She’d answered his request with the back of her hand. “How dare you shame me with such! You’re a War Hauk. You will do your duty and you will stand before her like the proud Andarion warrior you’re supposed to be, not some sniveling cockless coward! Besides, there is no one else who will have you. Look in a mirror. You’re deformed and revolting. You should be grateful that she hasn’t already broken pledge with you. At least this way, we can pretend you have some value and desirability.”

And as Dariana had done every year before that, when the priest had asked if she found him acceptable for her lineage, she’d sliced open his back and walked out the door. It was the most brutal way for an Andarion female to deny her lineage to a male.

Worse, it’d become a sick sort of ritual for him. One that made him more furious every time he was forced to endure it.

Every year Dariana denied him, he saw more of his mother’s love for him die. She could barely stand to look at him now. She blamed him fully for the shame he brought to their family.

In his heart, he knew Sumi would never do that to him. She would be honorable enough to slit his throat and end his hell. A death sentence for them both. Not force him to undergo public humiliation, year after year.

He took her tiny hand into his and smiled. Of course, she’d need a knife to hurt him. Her delicate hands could never rip open his back, or his throat.

And before he could stop himself, he placed her hand on his cheek and nuzzled it. He didn’t understand how she’d come to mean so much to him so quickly. He wasn’t a trusting soul. Nor did he make friends easily. He expected the worst from others, and seldom was he disappointed.

Yet this tiny assassin had found a place in his heart where very few dwelled. And instead of cutting her out of it, he was allowing her to burrow in even deeper.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Dariana was right. He was defective. He had to be to even think the thoughts that were in his head.