For beaten and bruised, she cast off her shame,

Revealed her arms and her stomach laid bare,

The accused could no longer hide nor shrink from her stare.

“Her eyes remained dry, her tears long ago shed,

Her jaw raised and firm, no room left for dread,

The trails of blood, had long dried coppery red,

To remain silent one moment longer? She’d rather be dead.

“Her life was a book, and she’d not just turn a page,

She’d burn the damn thing to ash with the fires of her rage,

She did it for her, not herself, but another,

The child growing inside her, she’d soon be a mother.

“When none stepped forward to help her, she choked on a sob,

Cowards all, witnesses only, not a righteous mob,

He came forward to grab her, to strike her, to claim her again,

That’s when she revealed the dagger she’d secreted, beneath her cloak, hidden.

“Stabbed the blade forth, a true strike into his heart,

It wasn’t the end of her story, that woman named Glory,

No, it was only the beginning, just the start.”

The voice drifted away, allowing silence to reign once more. She opened her eyes, wondering where she was. She pushed aside that question, however, for there were more important matters to attend to. Ludo sat nearby, on the edge of the bed, his gaze angled away, as though searching the shadows for something only he understood well enough to even look for. His cheeks were rough with three days’ worth of stubble. His hair was unkempt, as though he’d been running his hands over his scalp incessantly. Those hands, however, were calm at the moment, resting dutifully in his lap as the song he’d sung so beautifully was lost forever in the wake of its own melody. This was the version of the man she’d clung to in the dark, stripped bare of ego and pretense.

Seeing him this close caused her heart to twist, half of her heart yearning to be even closer while the other half wanted to rip itself free and stab into him. Because he’d been the one to stop her from finishing what she’d needed to finish. She both hated him and loved him for what he’d done, simultaneously. It was an emotional contradiction she didn’t think she’d ever be able to wrap her head around.

“Why?” was all she knew how to ask.

He turned toward her, his eye widening. “You’re awake,” he said. “Thank the gods. How do you feel?”

“Like someone who’s been betrayed…again. Now tell me why,” she demanded through her teeth. Anger was all she knew how to feel right now. “Why did you stop me?”

“I can explain.”

She shook her head, which suddenly felt remarkably clear. “When someone you want—no, need, desperately—to trust lies to you, it’s like being stabbed in the chest with a knife, and then that blade is twisted and pushed deeper, shredding parts of your very soul you didn’t even know existed.”