Page 106 of Cruel Hearts

“Okay,” she says, and like a child, she keeps her hand in mine as we walk down the corridor. We go upstairs to the roof. One of the Crowne’s most popular amenities is the pool, and it sparkles in the early evening sun. The air is humid, but this high up, a slight breeze gives us a little bit of relief.

“Can I?” Zarah asks, tilting her head toward the pool.

“You want to swim?”

“Just my feet.”

“Oh, sure.”

It reminds me she’s been deprived of the little things. Ash robbed her of so much because I let him.

Zarah rolls up the legs of her satin lounging pants, and she sits at the edge of the pool.

“It’s cold!” she giggles, moving her feet under the water.

Someone painted her toenails pink.

“Come sit,” she says, patting the concrete next to her.

I nudge off my shoes, pull off my socks, and roll my pants to my knees.

My slacks will still get wet, but I’d dunk my whole body if it meant having more of these quiet times with my sister. She’s not ready for the conversation I want to have with her, and I start carefully. “Z, I want you to know that none of this is your fault. You aren’t to blame for any of this.”

Tears fill Zarah’s eyes, and as they drip down her cheeks, the sun catches them and turns them to crystal. “Ash took Stella because of me.”

I place a finger under her chin and ask her to look at me. “No. Ash took Stella because ofme. She tried to warn me, and I didn’tlisten. That night at the party, she knew if she tried to talk to me, I wouldn’t believe her. Trust me, Zarah. I know this is all my fault.”

She lays a hand on my knee, and her fingers tremble. “Stella came back.”

I force a smile. “Yeah, she did.”

“She came for me.”

Something I didn’t do, and Zarah’s barb hits home. “Yeah, she did.”

“Do you still love her?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

We sit quietly. Crows and seagulls fly along the river searching for food. Cargo ships have used the Renegade for hundreds of years, but the barges look huge and out of place floating through the richest section of King’s Crossing. The water is a murky brown, dirty, and like the barges, looks out of place flowing between the fancy buildings sitting near the impeccably landscaped shores.

“Zarah, Stella told me what Ash made you do. I’m not going to let him get away with that.”

Her expression closes off—she doesn’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to force her, but when this all goes to court, and it will, Zarah may need to testify. Like Nathalie. Like Stella.

“You don’t have to tell me what those assholes did to you, but it would be helpful if you could give me their names.”

She kicks her feet in the water, her pink toenails flashing against the blue. Her hair blows into her face, and she squints into the sun.

I was told Zarah’s nurses took her for regular walks outdoors, but I can’t think anything is the truth anymore. This could be the first time Zarah has spent any time outside in the past several years. We sit for close to an hour, and I don’t pressure her. Ilive in the moment, focus on the beauty of the evening. That my sister is by my side. That Stella’s downstairs, and that she loves me.

Zarah’s answer catches me off guard. I forgot I asked the question.

“I don’t remember their names.” She tips her head back, and her hair swings against her shoulder blades in the breeze. “They were angry, and they hated Dad.”

Painstakingly, she slowly describes three men, picking through the drugs and the holes in her memory for their features. Hair color, physiques. One wore a wedding ring, onyx stones circling the silver band. I know who she’s talking about the second she describes it, but details of the other men don’t trigger any names. She wants to please me, give me the information I want, and she kicks in frustration.

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