MACE

The moment I asked her what she wanted, Jaynayah looked as if I had handed her a blade and told her to cut herself free.

Not afraid of me.

Afraid of the question.

That hurt in a way I had no defense for.

Her fingers rested in mine, cold from the night air, delicate in a way that made every violent instinct in me rise snarling. Behind us, the cottage glowed warm and small beneath the moon. Inside, my mother was humming to blue flowers and ghosts. In front of us, Samantha waited on the porch with council news in her eyes.

And between us stood one question no...