Areana had said that it might be possible once Tula was safely away. A few weeks, maybe a month. Tony would have to act depressed as well, so his copycat suicide would look believable.
Perhaps it wouldn't be a forever goodbye after all.
Except, she had a feeling that Areana was just saying that to make her feel better. Tula didn't know much about submarines and divers with underwater scooters, but it all seemed like a tremendous undertaking, and she doubted Annani and her clan would bother to do so for a human, and she couldn't even feel bitter about it.
She was grateful that they were willing to put forth all that effort for her.
Still, the hope flickered. Maybe. Possibly. If the Fates were kind.
"You're doing it again," Tony said. "Getting lost inside your own head."
Tula forced herself back to the present. "I'm sorry. I promise to stay here."
For now. For the next thirty-six hours. She would try to be more present and to memorize every second.
Guilt pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe. She thought about Areana's words from a few days ago—the guilt will be your constant companion. You need to make peace with that.
How?
How did she make peace with abandoning people she cared so deeply about? How did she carry that forward and manage to function?
She was still trying to figure that out when they'd adjourned to the dining room for lunch, pushing her food around her plate instead of eating it.
Tony looked at her with worry in his eyes. "You've barely touched anything."
"I'm not very hungry." Tula pushed the plate away. "My stomach feels weird." She put a hand over the swell of her belly.
It was another convenient excuse. Another lie. She was building a tower of them, each one adding to the structure that would culminate tomorrow night when she disappeared.
When they returned to the library, the afternoon stretched long and strange.
Time moved both too fast and too slowly, each minute simultaneously crawling and racing toward tomorrow.
Tula clung to Tony, touching him more than usual, and he responded with obvious pleasure, pulling her close whenever she was near, pressing kisses to her temple, her cheek, her lips.
"I like this version of you," he murmured, arms wrapped around her from behind as they stood before a shelf of Greek poetry to compare the binding. "This affectionate, can't-keep-her-hands-off-me version."
"Get used to it." The words hurt coming out, because he wouldn't get used to what would soon not be there.
Unless he joined her later.
Unless the Fates were merciful.
She turned in his arms, looking up at him. "If something happens to me?—"
"Don't." Tony's expression closed off immediately. "Don't talk like that."
"But if it did?—"
"It won't." His hands tightened on her waist, almost painfully. "Nothing will happen to you. I won't let it."
Did he really believe that he could keep her safe through sheer force of will? He was completely powerless on this island, in this harem, even more so than she was.
"I just need you to know," she tried again, "that you've been good to me, and I appreciate it. I appreciate you."
Tony's jaw clenched, and she saw the fear in his eyes. "You're talking like you're planning to do something stupid."
"I'm not." The lie tasted bitter in her mouth. "I'm just emotional. Pregnancy brain."
