Emberwood [m] I want to be known for my hits, not just my misses

She'd expected anger — and maybe it lurked somewhere beneath the surface, but Akavir had always been more adept at controlling his emotions than she ever was. Reverie sucked in a breath as he spoke, letting his words linger in the air between them. For a moment she didn't know what to say.
And then the words just started to pour from her.
I - I want to see - where she's buried, She couldn't bring herself to say the name, not to him. And I know - I know I have no right. I hurt her - and you - all of you - but I - I - The hysteria of grief was rising in her, but she fought it, even as her voice cracked and stumbled over her last words: I never told her that I'm sorry.
Reverie took a shaking step back from Akavir and abruptly sat, trying to still her shaking paws. I loved her, She confessed, feeling as if she might vomit. And she had, truly. It just hadn't been enough. It never would have been, because she was not Lestan; because no one could ever be enough after he'd abandoned her, not even the man who had returned to her in wasting madness.