“Shh,” I said and rested my forehead against his, moving his hand lower, down my stomach and between my thighs. His lips hovered near mine and his breathing grew ragged, but he did not attempt to touch me beyond my direction. I became frustrated, the heat between my thighs unbearable.

“Adrian,” I whispered, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I love you.”

He kissed me hard, his free hand gripping the base of my skull. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he lifted me from the tub, but when he pressed into my skin, I arched against him, a shock of pain escaping my mouth.

He froze, dropping his hands.

“I’m sorry. I—”

“It’s okay.” I took his face between my hands and forced him to look at me, but when I tried to kiss him again, he drew away and it hurt.

“I’ll summon Vesna,” he said.

“Adrian—”

“I will not be responsible for hurting you further,” he said. “I can’t.”

I brought my hands to my chest, feeling strangely exposed and ridiculous before my own husband. I hated it. He crossed the room to ring the bell, and I sought my robe, desperate to hide.

Neither of us spoke, and when the knock came at the door, though I knew to expect it, I was not prepared to see Vesna. It was evident she had been crying; her eyes were rimmed in red and puffy. I crossed the room to her and held her tight. We cried together, even as she helped me dress, both of us very much aware that this was Violeta’s role. Adrian sat and watched. His hands remained fisted, one on his thigh and one pressed against his mouth.

The dress was black with a lace overlay that pressed a pretty design against the collar of my neck. I chose to wear my mother’s pearl tiara because I liked the weight of it, liked to pretend it was somehow her laying her hands upon me.

There were times when I wondered how my life would be different if she had been here. What would she have done in the aftermath of the lake attack? Would she have held me? Whispered her love to me as Adrian had done? Would she have felt just as vengeful as me?

Adrian brought me my cloak and clasped it at the front.

“Was Violeta right?” I asked. “Did we get more snow?”

Adrian nodded. “It is very cold, and we will be traveling to the Starless Forest.”

I did not ask why because I did not need to. I knew what Adrian intended—to hang those who had hurt me, hurt Ana, murdered Violeta, from the very trees my sisters had hung from two hundred years ago.