ARYA

I cried like a baby. I was curled up in bed, buried under the sheets. It felt like I'd reached my limit. It was as though I'd lost my identity, my pride and everything that belonged to me. This had to be some kind of nightmare come to life. I'd kissed my mother's killer, and I'd wanted more. My mother must be turning in her grave, restless and grievous.

"I'm sorry, Mum," I croaked, squeezing my swollen eyes shut. "I'm so sorry."

I heard the door jerk open, but I refused to move, and ...