The meal is good, the company better. The night is almost perfect.
Almost.
I missed spending time with Claude like this, and yet… every second together is just a reminder of what we can’t have. That distance between us, impossible to cross for our safety. And it is impossible to miss Claude’s exhaustion, even as he does his best to keep the mood light when we eat.
After I clear away the dishes—refusing to let him help—I return to find him sitting in his seat with his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. I hesitate for a moment, and then walk over, grazing a hand over his slumped shoulders.
“What’s wrong, Claude?” I ask in a soft voice, my thumb circling over a tense muscle on the side of his neck. “Where were you this weekend?”
He leans into my touch but doesn’t lift his head. “You don’t have to worry about it.”
“If it worries you, it worries me,” I say. “Talk to me. Please.”
After a moment, he drops his hands from his face. “I was visiting Ambrose. Trying to mend things between myself and the Vulpe Court, see if there was any possibility of altering our contract.”
My stomach twists. No wonder he seems so tired. I wish he had told me beforehand, but… what’s done is done. “And?”
He shakes his head. “Lord Ambrose only took my begging as a sign that this tactic is working,” he says. “He was exceedingly clear. So long as I’m unable to paint, he will make it so I’m unable to have you. For the duration of our contract, and… in perpetuity.”
A part of me suspected it, but it’s something else entirely to hear it aloud. I brace myself against the table, since I suddenly don’t trust my legs to support me. “There’s nothing we can do?” I ask. “He’ll never let us be together?”
There is one thing, of course—he could paint, like Ambrose wants. But somehow I know that wouldn’t be enough. It will never be enough. I will never be anything but a tool to him to use, for Claude’s reward or punishment, and the threat of that will never let us be together in peace.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I never should have drawn you into this.”
“Don’t say that. I’m…” I shake my head, struggling to express myself. “I’m glad I can be here to support you, if nothing else.” No matter how badly it hurts, that will be true.
But the idea of never being together is agonizing. Even if I walk away at the end of the year, how can I live the rest of my life never knowing what it would’ve been like? How can I abandon Claude to suffer Ambrose’s cruelties alone?
Claude takes my hand and squeezes, conveying a thousand unspoken words in that one gesture. “There’s one more thing,” he says, after a moment’s quiet. “Ambrose was getting on me about the rest of the contract. We need to spend more time together, beseenspending time together.”
The thought of pretending to be happy in the public eye feels like swallowing glass, but there’s no avoiding it. “Right.”
“I secured an invitation to a Celeste gathering from a mutual friend,” he says. “We’ll be seen without being too much in the spotlight. I figured that would be most bearable for you.”
Even now, he’s thinking of me. I force a smile. “We’ll get through this, Claude.”
He nods, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. Because we both know the truth: there is no getting through this, because there will never be a happy ending for us.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
After another week of uncomfortable distance between us, Claude and I endure a long and painfully silent ride to the Celeste event he asked me to attend with him. Between our subdued black semiformal outfits and the somber quiet, it feels like we’re on the way to a funeral instead of a party.
I sit staring out the window, Claude’s words from our last conversation still ringing in my head.In perpetuity.Ever since he said those words, I lost a flicker of hope that I wasn’t aware I was still holding on to. Part of me thought that if we made it through a difficult year, everything would be okay. But now it looks like the only way this ends is with us walking away from each other.
It’s exactly what I said I wanted. One year, a great salary, and then I’d be out of this lifestyle, moving on to the future I’ve always worked for. But now I know what I’ll be walking away from.WhoI’ll be walking away from. And the idea of leaving Claude to this eternal solitude makes my chest ache.
On the other side of the car, Claude clears his throat, looking down at his ring-laden hands. He hasn’t touched the wine. “I’ve been thinking about your safety,” he says.
I turn to him, frowning. “Shouldn’t you be thinking about your own?”
He gives his head the smallest shake. “After our contract is up, I mean… Of course I won’t fault you for walking away, but…” He shifts in his seat, brushing hair out of his face. “It would be safest for you to continue to be under the protection of a contract and a court.”
My brow furrows. “So… stay under contract with you?”
“No.” He hesitates. “With someone else.”
I can only stare.
