Part of him wanted to be furious. The part that remembered clawing at the dirt with fingerless stumps while Rosie's roots dragged him down. The part that heard Ayame's voice through the link, steady and apologetic, telling him a lie.
They went against his will. All three of them. The girl he'd raised, the woman he slept beside, and the samurai he trusted with being his second in command.
His fists tightened on the sheets.
But the fury had nowhere clean to land.
Vex. The curse she'd modified, the one that had left her bleeding from her nose and ears and the corners of her eyes on the dirt. She'd carved a piece of herself off and remade it into a shield he hadn't asked for. She'd decided on her own that his life was worth more than his permission.
How could he fault her for that?
