“I wouldn’t have told anyone,” I said, insulted.

“I believe you, but I didn’t at first. Even after I trusted you, I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to look at me differently. I didn’t want you to look at me like you are looking at me now. It was already hard enough, wondering what you thought. If I could … attract you. If I could make you want me.”

“Of course,” I said bitterly. “What would be the point in telling yet one more conquest?”

“You were never a conquest.”

“You would think that a liar, caught lying, would be wise enough to stop.”

“Nirrim,” she said, “I love you.”

My breath caught. My eyes stung. And then I couldn’t look at her. I swore I would never look at her again, at her beautiful, worried face. “I don’t believe you.”

“I love you because you are true and kind, and curious, and clever. I love you because of how you kiss me.”

“Stop it.” My throat closed.

“The letter I wrote in the tavern was to you. I was trying to explain.”

“In a language I couldn’t read. On a page you never planned to give to me.”

“I never actually told you a lie.”

“What you just now said is a lie. You are lying to yourself about what a lie is. You deceived me. Playing games with words doesn’t make you less a liar.”

“You’re right,” she said miserably. “I’m so sorry. Ask me anything you want. I’ll tell you the truth.”

I refused to look at her face. I looked at her hands, which she had pulled from her pockets. She was rubbing one thumb against the palm of her other hand, her fingers nervous in a way I had never seen—not when she spread jam on a pancake or played a piano’s keys. Not when she had touched me so deftly.

I didn’t want the anger boiling in my chest. I didn’t want my eyes to sting. I didn’t want to have been made a fool, so easily deceived by her. I wanted to be a wall, to be stone and mortar. I wanted to clear the burn from my eyes. So I focused on that long, thin scar on her hand. It is ugly, I thought.

And dear. I loved its ragged line.

I asked, “Where did you get that scar?”

“From a tiger.”

Which was what she had said before, though I had dismissed it as a joke. “Really?”