"Good night, Batu!"
He pushed himself up on his elbow, removing my pillow. Batu pushed me onto my back. He gazed down at me, surprise on his features.
"You, Moonbeam, murdered your husband?"
"I did not murder him," I snapped and tried to push him away.
He captured both wrists in one hand easily and pinned them to my chest, unconcerned with any attempt I made to escape. He was too strong to be remotely fazed. "But you had a hand in it," he said, reading my features. "You were involved somehow."
I sighed, resistance deflating with the aid of exhaustion and sorrow. "Yes, I did," I admitted. Lying took energy. I sucked at it to begin with, and I had no energy to spare. Batu was too relentless to let me lie to him. "Someone used me to get close to him then killed him."
"But it was not your sword," he pointed out. "Why are you guilty for an act that was not yours?"
"I don't want to talk about it." I tugged at my hands.
He smiled, aware I wasn't going anywhere until he got what he wanted.
"You can be a real ass, Batu," I muttered. "Why do you care?"
"Because you do not wish me to know. It is important to you, so it is important to your guardian."
I was too tired to debate his logic. "Taylor knew he was dying. Before he did, he forgave me for my involvement in his murder and told me I had … made a difference in his life. Everyone around me died, Batu. Not just him. I was the only one who survived, and that feels … wrong. His kindness in his last moment feels wrong. Telling me I meant something to him despite what was going to happen …wrong." I clamped my mouth closed, close to tears. "I shouldn't have survived and he shouldn't have died. If we had never met, he wouldn't have."
Understanding crossed Batu's features. He released my hands.
The truth was out. There was no need to fight him anymore. I wiped my eyes quickly and sighed, struggling for control of my emotions. "That's why I'm sad," I said tightly. I rolled onto my side once more, hoping he took the hint to leave me alone.
For once, he did. Batu lay down once more, resuming his position holding me. He had to have noticed my irregular breathing as I worked on composing myself once more, but he was mercifully quiet. If anything, he held me more tightly, and his body against mine soothed the emotions I couldn't control.
While I appreciated his silence, it also bothered me to think he might be judging me for the first time.