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His shoulders lifted. “I guess I have.”
She laughed fully, shaking her head. “Regardless of myimmensesize, I can be quick. And if I can be an even smaller target, by curling down to the ground like I did, it is all the better. Men are never thinking about how they can become smaller—only bigger.”
He nodded. Canny.
Her voice dropped a notch, her words slowing. “I will confess, though, I never knew if I could actually do it.”
“Do what?”
“Cut someone.”
He watched her face and realized a flicker of hardness was in her gaze that hadn’t been there before. She now knew she was capable of cutting someone. Injuring them. Probably more if it came down to it.
That was something that wouldn’t be taken lightly by someone with a heart like hers.
He didn’t care for it. The loss of this particular innocence wasn’t something to be celebrated. But the world could be cruel, and the more she understood about her own abilities, the better.
At least she hadn’t killed the man. He’d gladly take that burden a thousand times over so she would never feel it.
“You’ve never cut someone before?” He asked the question even though the answer was plain in her face.
“No, nicks here and there during practice with dull blades, but I never had to go after someone with the brutal need to do true injury to them.” Her words went quiet. “It is…it is different.”
“It is.”
“How do you do it—what you did to them?”
He looked at her, her voice cold—soft—but cold. “I don’t feel, Vic. It’s as easy as that.”
She blinked hard at his answer, but nodded. Her gaze shifted forward.
They rode in silence for another hour before her voice cut into the day.
“I’m sorry that I jumped off the horse yesterday. I shouldn’t have. I was being stubborn. Everyone tells me I’m too stubborn, but I cannot help myself sometimes.”
He froze, his face turning to her.
“What?” Her eyes went wide in panic. “Is something behind me?” She twisted around, searching, then looked back at him, her gaze wild. “What is it? You look like a demon is about to attack.”
“I just…just have never heard anyone apologize to me before.”
Her face scrunched in disbelief. “What?”
He shrugged.
Her eyes squinted, her forehead angling toward him. “You are telling me you’ve never had someone apologize to you before? Never?” Her look flew upward in disbelief. “No. Ridiculous.”
“I have heard the word ‘sorry,’ yes, but only in the polite society I-stepped-on-your-foot-during-the-dance type of an apology.” He looked away from her, regretting his initial reaction to her words, for this conversation was quickly growing uncomfortable. “I just meant a true apology. I’ve never had that.”
Her head snapped back, the wrinkles along her forehead sticking in place. “How? How is that possible? How has no one ever said they’re sorry? Has no one ever wronged you?”
“Plenty of people have.” He looked back to her. “Apologies don’t exist where I come from.”
“Do you come from hell?”
He snorted a chuckle. A touch too close to the truth.
His mouth pulled into a tight line. “People, the men in my employ, the men I work with, they are not brought up that way. Apologies mean you did something wrong and that is weak. Weakness does not play well in my world.”
