i look at you, crying wind,and it was so, slate-blue reaching behind the obsidian waters of eyes which had never truly seen. it was not her fault, it was how he had restarted himself, courtship and marriage without end, holding himself apart until he was not sure he wished to be perceived at all.
and yet, in spite of this, iglux̂ saw and held cen in her shadowlight sights.
will you humiliate me before a village? will you seek men who are not saatsine behind my back? will you give me into the teeth of those who will pluck out my other eye? will you kill my children? break their bones, keep them from me? will you run to my enemies with milk streaming from your breasts, iglux̂?
cen heaped upon crying-wind those sins of past wives, turning impasse into atonement for that price she had never exacted.
i would hate you for those things. i would resent you for those things.
the scars twitched. have i not forfeited enough? stubborn, but not silent;
if you are a wife that wants, i will be a husband who wants more.
her match. her equal.
we will meet the demand of one another.
cen said nothing else. she had not seen him punish past wrongs with blows hard enough to break, to maim. she must never accuse him of less than loyalty again, despite! despite! despite!