“Her name,” he said. “Scylla. It means the Render. Perhaps it was always her destiny to be a monster, and you were only the instrument.”
“Do you use the same excuse for the maids you hanged?”
It was as if I had struck him. “I make no excuse for that. I will wear that shame all my life. I cannot undo it, but I will spend my days wishing I could.”
“It is how you know you are different from your father,” I said.
“Yes.” His voice was sharp.
“It is the same for me,” I said. “Do not try to take my regret from me.”
He was quiet a long time. “You are wise,” he said.
“If it is so,” I said, “it is only because I have been fool enough for a hundred lifetimes […] I must tell you, all my past is like today, monsters and horrors no one wants to hear.”
He held my gaze. […]
“I want to hear,” he said.