His Cold Disgust, Her Pain

doing nothing to warm the chill that had settled de

ver, swearing he' d always be my shield.

tgown to reveal the withered flower branded into my

I couldn' t tell him the truth, a horrifi

uelly, refusing to "dirty his hands" on me, before

f, nearly taking my life before my maid, Clara, sto

ndured it, for him, for us, for

brand once was, I found him, hoping

short, ugly sound. "A scar is just a

the final blow: he was marryin

ng compared to the gaping wound he' d to