She opens the drawer in her nightstand and takes out the book of Osirian history. She takes out the extra pages. She reads.
"There was once a woman who married the most wonderful man in the world. He was kind and generous, loyal and trustworthy, beautiful and powerful, and he loved his wife like a piece of himself, even though she was not nearly so wonderful as he was. They were very happy together, and thought that they would be so for a very long time.
"It happened that a great tragedy befell the man's kingdom. Its king and all of his family were destroyed, and could not be recovered. So the god of that kingdom found the man and cut out his heart, which was light and shining like the sun, and placed in his chest a hard and heavy stone, as dark as a moonless night. And all of the people welcomed him as their new king. The god made the stone heavy, so that he could barely stand up under it. The weight of the stone kept him tied to the palace, until such time as a new king could be found or created. The darkness of the stone came out in his actions; he was cruel, and threatening, and angry at everyone he came in contact with. He could not touch his wife without hurting her, and she was afraid. She asked him whether he might remove the stone, and put his heart back where it had been. And he said that she had asked an awful thing, for he did not see any value in the heart that he had had. But he told her that because she was his wife, she would be entitled to it, as long as she was still his wife when the kingdom had a new king. But he told her that he hoped she would be wiser than that, and learn to trust that he was stronger like this, and free of all the weaknesses that he thought had plagued him when he was kind.
The woman spent many hours wandering the palace garden, away from her husband, hiding from his touch and his notice. But she could not hide for long, for every night he summoned her to his bed.
"'You do not love me,' said the man to his wife, one night. 'You shrink from my touch, and do not welcome my advances, even though I am your husband. You should be eager to give every piece of yourself to me, and trust that I will keep you safe, and leave you better than I found you.'
"And the woman said, 'I love you very much. But I fear that you will break me, and I will not be able to.'
"And the man said, 'If you love me, you will find a way to give yourself to me, and will welcome all that I do to you. Otherwise, I will know that you are not loyal, and it will be as if you were not my wife.' And the woman was afraid, and thought that the man might not put his heart back, when the time had come.
"So the woman went into the garden. There she cut herself open and took out her own heart. She put in its place a rock, which could not be scarred by words, or blades, or illness. She left her heart in the garden, hidden in a place where only someone who loved her like a piece of himself would be able to find it. There the heart was safe, and could not be harmed, nor forget how to love the person it waited for. And as she left the garden, the woman forgot where she had left it, for it was no longer hers.
"She went back into the palace, and presented herself to her husband. 'I will do anything you ask,' she said. 'I will give you whatever pieces of me that you desire, and obey all of your orders without hesitation.'
"'Good,' said her husband. 'Then prove your devotion by giving me the piece of your sex that knows what pleasure is, so that you will not insist on receiving it.' So the woman cut out that piece of her sex and gave it to him, and could not feel pleasure. And he gave her a pearl to put in its place, and told her she was beautiful. And she did not avoid or seek anything from him, when he called her to his bed, but did exactly what he asked.
"But her husband was not satisfied. 'You do not love me,' he said, 'for I have seen you look at other people, and I know that you want them instead. Give me your eyes, so that you will not be able to look on anyone else.' So the woman cut out her eyes and gave them to him, and could not see. He gave her two glass ones, with jewels set in them, and told her that she was beautiful. And the woman stopped wandering the palace, which she could not navigate, and was confined to her rooms.
"But her husband was not satisfied. 'You do not love me,' he said, 'for you say things that sound like requests, and do not trust me to offer you what you deserve. Give me your tongue, so that I will know that you trust me to offer what you need.' So the woman cut out her tongue, and gave it to him, and could not speak. He gave her the feather of a swan, to hold in her mouth, and told her that she was beautiful. And the woman took to writing her requests, and could not speak to her husband, who could not read.
"But her husband was not satisfied. 'You do not love me,' he said, 'for even though you cannot feel pleasure, you still crave comfort. Give me your skin, so that you will not desire softness from me, which I do not wish to give you.' So the woman peeled off her skin, and gave it to him, and could not feel. He coated her muscles in fine porcelain, which made it hard to move, and told her she was beautiful. And the woman did not move very much, because she found it hard to control her body.
"But her husband was not satisfied. 'You do not love me,' he said, 'for there is a pride in how you stand, and I can tell that you think yourself better than I am. Give me your spine, so that you will not carry yourself like one who believes herself to be better than others.' So the woman cut out her spine, and gave it to him, and could not stand. He gave her a flowering vine to run through her back, and told her she was beautiful. And the woman spent all her time in bed, because she could not sit up.
"But her husband was not satisfied. 'You do not love me,' he said, 'for you have not given me your heart. Give it to me now, so that I will know with certainty that no other holds it.' So the woman cut open her chest, and showed him the rock. But he did not recognize that it was not her heart, for it was dark and cold and hard, like the thing that was in his own chest. He kept the rock in a locked box, and looked in on it on special occasions, and satisfied himself that his wife could love no one else.
"In time she bore him many children, although she could not care for them, and the palace staff raised them until one of them was old enough to be a king. By that time her husband had forgotten her, for she could not speak to him, or leave her bed, or desire him. But she heard from her servants that her children were grown now, and would make good kings, so she pulled herself out of her bed, and crawled to where she knew her husband kept his heart. She brought it to him, dragging herself through the halls, and prostrated herself before him when she heard his voice, holding out his heart to him. And the man remembered that he had promised her that he would put it back, if she had done her part and been a wife to him. And he was full of disgust for her. But the weight in his chest moved him to keep his promise, and so he cut out the rock and put his heart back, and saw what he had done to her.
"I do not know what he did with his wife, after that. Perhaps he sold her as a servant to someone else, who could bear to look at her. Perhaps he kept her until she died, and wept as she went to hell. Perhaps he even wandered the garden, and found her true heart, and gave it back to her. It is not for this author to say, or to know, or to care about.
"What matters is that he is free."
She looks at her paper for a while.
"It's not the best story I've written," she says. "I think I was very tired when I wrote it. But it did what it had to."
