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“Whatever his reasons, they couldn’t have been good. You had reason to believe you were in mortal danger from your sister’s murderer.”
How could he be so fair? “I made a desperate bid for the local Temple of Kyria to take me in.”
“Resisting the king is risky, even for mages. They would not have been willing to put themselves in that position without powerful motivation. You would have had to win their favor with a gesture of loyalty—such as telling them about an apostate.”
“That doesn’t justify what I did.”
“It helps you understand yourself,” he said, “which a necessary step toward making things right.”
“How can I ever make this right? I ruined so many lives for my own gain.”
“Not for gain—for survival. To protect yourself from your abuser.”
“It didn’t matter in the end,” she said. “My plan didn’t work. I fell ill. Miranda escaped the mages. When I survived, the king took me away.”
“And you had no happiness for seven more years.”
“How can you care about my happiness?” She pressed her face against his chest, taking comfort in his arms that she didn’t deserve. She had often feared he was too good for her, and she had been right. “How can you not hate the person I used to be?”
“I love you,” he said. “I loved you when you were Cassia Basilis, and I’ve loved you along every step of your journey to become Cassia Komnena.”
“I’m not sure which I am anymore.”
“That is obvious, my rose. It was obvious to me the night you pretended not to care about the casualties of epidemics, while helping me sneak life-saving medicine into the Temple of Kyria. But in case you need further evidence, you are someone who is physically ill because you care so much about the people inside this cottage.”
She shut her eyes, her tears soaked his robe. This was why she could not stop holding onto him. He always reminded her that hope was not lost. Including hope for herself to transform.
“You already transformed,” he said. “We’re simply going to make it official on your Gift Night.”
“That won’t undo the genuinely terrible things I did in the past.”
He stroked her hair. “My father has told you how he sought vengeance for his parents’ deaths, and later for Methu’s. You know Phaedros brutalized countless mortals. Hespera has never been the Goddess of the perfect. She is the Goddess of the broken. That’s what Sanctuary and Mercy mean. We come to her as we are. Why do you think we are so determined to mend this world? It’s because we know what it takes to mend ourselves.”
“You’ve never done anything cruel in your life.”
“But I’ve done things I regret…failed those who needed me.”
She rested her hand on his heart, knowing he was thinking of Pakhne. “Have you figured out how to forgive yourself?”
He shook his head. “I wish I could show you the way. But I still don’t know how.”
Walking back inside the cottage to face Miranda was one of the most difficult things Cassia had ever done. The healer was now slumped in a chair by the fire, sweating, while Perita gave her some water. The farmer slept peacefully, his leg in a splint.
Mak and Lyros’s worried gazes followed Cassia across the cottage, and Solia opened her mouth as if to speak. Lio shook his head at them and wrapped his veils around Cassia’s conversation, as she had asked.
“Miranda,” Cassia began, “I would be grateful if you would permit me a word with you. You certainly don’t owe it to me, and if you prefer never to speak to me again, I will respect your wishes.”
“Of course I’ll speak with you, Your Highness,” Miranda replied carefully.
Perita glanced between them with a worried expression. “What’s going on?”
Miranda squeezed her hand. “Give us a moment.”
“I’ll explain later,” Cassia promised.
Her chin set in protest, Perita joined Callen by the older couple.
“You have my gratitude for saving my life,” Cassia began.
