Seeing him made her wonder about the past. It made her wonder how malleable the future was. Were the notes written in her little notebook all just fake? How much of the past could she trust. Lumielle had always thought that the future had been set in stone, but now, staring at Allard and feeling nothing but the pounding remnants of a headache, she knew.
She no longer wanted to devour his heart whole. If his love had been given to her now, she would have stepped on it. Perhaps, she had everyone around her to blame—true love should never feel like war.
"What do you have to say?" Lumielle asked, "Did you come here to expect a sign of gratitude for beheading those men who tried to poison me?" She dug her finger deeper against his chest, hoping to see if his hollow heart could shatter.
How so many years ago, she had wanted to seek comfort inside of his ribs. A small space was all she needed. It was naive. It was stupid.
