Hatred ComplicatedI lay on my cot, perfectly still, my muscles aching from the effort of holding my breath, but the physical tension was nothing compared to the war raging in my mind. The silver object and the journal were still hidden deep inside my tunic. The terrible truth they held was burning me alive.

Demetrius was not a cold-blooded monster enjoying my rejection. He was a dying man trying to finish a war before his own body betrayed him.

The weight of my previous judgment crushed me. ...