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My mind whirs even faster, trying to focus on the memory. What exactly did he say? That he loved being with me? Is that not the same thing?

Nikola speaks again, scattering my thoughts. “Our parents have been arranging it for a while now. She is a good match for me . . . and our business. I told you we haven’t been doing well. I thought you understood.”

So it is not love. Her family sells olive oil—they have always been well-off. There is still hope. “You cannot marry her,” I declare. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, like she is some pesky fly.”

His jaw twitches, but he remains silent. Affirmation.

“And I am carrying your child. Is that not proof of our love?”

His expression sours. “You seduced me. According to my father, a mora is a skilled enchantress. There could have been other men too. Who knows if that child is mine.”

Shock propels me backward. “I have lain with no one else.”

“I do not know that.”

Not this madness again. “I told you, I am no mora. I am Magdalena. It was you who came to me, remember? You who sought me out, asking to heal your mother.” You who wooed me, kissed me, brought me to your bedroom, I want to scream. I think of his scorching gaze across the church courtyard. None of this would’ve happened if he’d never looked at me like that. With empathy. With indignation at my mistreatment.

“And it is the greatest regret of my life.” His words pummel me like a stone. “I’ll admit, I hoped the marriage could be avoided, and you proved a good distraction.”

Another stone thrown. Was that all I was?

“But after losing my mother, our business took a turn. We need Dobrila now, to save it. No one wants to buy from a family that was haunted by a monster.” A bitter grimace contorts his face as his cold eyes lock onto mine, two arrows drawn taut. Released. “It is all your fault.”

I stagger backward. Monster. My fault. What fresh hell is this? If I’d known this would happen, I never would’ve fallen under his spell. I would have resisted. It was he who seduced me. Tricked me. He is to blame, not me.

Lie low. Don’t stir trouble. But it is too late.

I gulp down air, resisting the panic building inside me. “And so that’s all that matters? Keeping your God-forsaken house, your wealth? I—I loved you. I am bearing our child.”

“As I said before, it is not mine. You have no proof.”

Tremors shiver down my body. This is not how this was supposed to go. All my hope has dissipated, exposing my reality in harsh, alarming clarity. “Nikola, you cannot abandon me. My home is destroyed. All this time, I have been living in the woods, barely surviving. I have no family. All I have is you.” I reach for his arm, craving the gentler version of him he was before, but he lurches away. Snatching a vial from the table, he wields it before my face. I recognize the glass container from church, from my own stores. Holy water.

“Be gone, mora!” he commands.

As I stare at his trembling hand, my longing wavers, ebbs, sucked down a hole deep within myself. I am empty, hollowed out by his words, with nothing to fill the void but absurdity. I am not some demon that can be warded off. Suddenly, laughter bubbles up my throat, and I can’t help but let it burst from my lips. It sounds shrill and maniacal to my ears, but I don’t care. I am not the mad one—he is.

“Go ahead,” I say. “Throw your holy water at me. What do you think will happen? Do you think I’ll burn and writhe and melt to the floor?” Another laugh shoots out. “You said I have no proof, but you are wrong. I’ll tell everyone what happened. How you brought me here every night, kissed me, undressed me, whispered words of adoration in my ears.” I stalk closer. “And they may call me a liar, or mad, but when our baby is born, and they see us walking through the village, they won’t be able to help themselves.” I am right in front of him now, chin tipped up in defiance. “They’ll stop, tilt their heads, and wonder, Doesn’t that child look a lot like Nikola Klarin?” I smirk, pleased by the horror splayed across his features. Even terrified, he is gorgeous.

“Go ahead, tell people I tricked you. But deep down, you and I will always know the truth. You loved me, Nikola Klarin.” I spit out the final words with force, commanding them to be true. Because if he didn’t, if all we had was a farce, then I truly have nothing.

Nikola’s nostrils flare and his face reddens with rage. In that moment, he is the monster. “Be gone, mora!” he commands. “Leave Tolba at once.”

I stumble backward but recover quickly. “Leave Tolba?” I laugh bitterly. “So losing my home is not enough? You will take the island from me too?”

He moves forward, forcing me back toward the door. But anger sears through me like a wildfire. I peer around for some way to unleash it, my attention catching on a shelf lined with bottles of perfume. To attract your summer love. Bile rises in my throat. He is just like his father, tossing his true love aside for someone else. Placing blame on other women when it is all theirs. I swipe my arm across the shelf, knocking the glass to the ground in a satisfying crash. But it is not loud enough to drown out the sound of my own heart shattering.

I dash away from Nikola, pushing more bottles off their shelves. With each smash, another dream within me dies: respect, home, belonging, love. His shouts only spur me on. If he must break my heart, then so be it. I will break his too, however I can. Let him feel a sliver of my loss.

“Magdalena, you’ve gone mad,” he yells, trying to capture my arms. But I twist free.

“So now I am Magdalena, hmm? Not a mora?” This time, I grab at the books, tearing out the pages. Books we once pored over together. Their bindings come apart so easily, just like me.

Another voice breaks through the clamor. It is coming from outside. We both pause, listening.

It comes again. “Nikola!” I recognize the voice—Dobrila.

Revulsion churns in my stomach, but then an idea seizes me. “I will tell her. Right now.” I lunge for the door, but Nikola yanks at my blouse, flinging me backward. When I regain my balance, he lunges for the chain, but I reach him first, slapping him hard across the face. My sudden violence stuns me. Red blooms across his cheek, an imprint from where my hand struck. Nikola’s eyes go wide with anger as he slowly turns to me.