Her divided attention should annoy me, but I was practical. Once the rut eased I’d be happy she had something to occupy her time since my duties required focus. The last irritant I needed was a clingy bonded; we were in full agreement on that score.

And besides, her true master would always be ballet.

She allowed me to lead her into the kitchen where Con watched until she ate, allowed me to lead her to the bedroom and run her a hot bath or cold shower according to her preference, and after bundle her into bed for a few hours.

But only for a few hours.

Then she was up again, a slave to a whip wielded by no hand other than her own.

“It will run its course,”my mother advised on the third night.“Give her time.”

“But—”

“Give her time. She is facing a few undesirable truths, as well as pain. When intervention is desired, you will know.”

Anah looked up, finally noting where I stood in the shadows of the courtyard. Tonight, her gaze focused, hardened, the look in her eyes hauntingly familiar. The look of a warrior who’d just emerged from the battleground of their own mind after witnessing their first true war.

The look of lost innocence.

Stony, accepting, pained. Determined to find a way to live with it, incensed at the insult of being made to do so.

The male who loved her mourned; the High Lord accepted it with more pragmatism, and walked towards her. My mother hadbeen correct. Anah was now ready to be talked off the plank of her own mind.

What would I tell her to offer comfort? Perhaps that because she wasn’t dead or disfunctionally insane she therefore was stronger. Our enemy was destroyed, his wealth confiscated and House Casakraine’s reputation strengthened.

A desirable outcome to any battle.

And I was old enough to know time healed most wounds, or at least scabbed them over enough to be set aside in the mental graveyard reserved for memories one didn’t care to let live.

I brushed her mind with mine. She accepted the merge, the edges of our awareness joining.

“When does it cease to be a joy and becomes a punishment, Lady Hasannah?” I asked, keeping the edge from my voice.

She gave me a humorless smile. “You don’t think I deserve punishment?”

“No.”

She stared at me.

I shrugged. “I am the law in Casakraine. And I say you have done nothing wrong.”

Exasperation bled into her expression. “Just because something is legal, doesn’t make it right. Human history is littered with examples of that,” she added under her breath. “Damn colonizers.”

I held her gaze. After a moment, she sighed, looking away. “It's all I have left of me someone hasn't taken,” she said. “And he tried to control that too.” Her mouth tightened, expressiondarkening, a new light in her eyes that wasn’t tears. “He did, for a time.”

I was nothing but a puppet dancing to the string of his magic.

“Do you think I’ve never faced an enemy who was stronger?” I spoke as gently as I could, controlling my impatience. “Do you think I’ve never failed? Never killed in vengeance for that failure? Very, very few of us escapes life without some kind of scar, Anah. Either the scars given us by others, or those we inflict.”

“So you’re telling me to stop feeling sorry for myself?”

“No.” I chose my words carefully. “I am telling you, you aren’t the monster. Were you. . .” I shrugged and gave her my sweetest smile. “Take comfort, I'm still the better one.”

She exhaled. “I feel empty, Andrei. I’m not dancing to punish myself. I'm dancing because it doesn't feel the same. There's something missing now.” The tears dampening her eyes stung me. “I feel selfish for saying I feel empty. I know I have you. I know I have Mathen and Constin and your luudthen. I know I have House Casakraine, in a fashion.”

“More than a fashion, Lady.”

“I know, and I appreciate it. This isn't about my support system. It's about what comes from within.” She looked down. “I don’t want to feel like this. Like the flavor has gone out of living.”