"Adrian, please," he whispered and something broke. I heard the crack in his voice, saw the utter desperation in his eyes. It was a vulnerability I'd never seen in Dante before.Never.Not even in the dead of night when we were intertwined together. Not even in the Trials which stripped us of our humanity and challenged us to survive. Not even in the end when he'd told me he loved me and pushed me into that hole.
His green eyes shimmered in the low light and I thought I saw the moisture gathered in them. He wasn't crying but it seemed like it was taking everything in him not to.
I dropped my fists, relaxed my shoulders, and breathed heavily. This wasn't the Dante I remembered. This wasn't the man I'd loved, the one I'd been partnered with. This wasn't the strong wall of muscle and will who both terrified and awed those around him in equal measure. This was the boy whose grandfather had turned him into a monster, the one who'd grown up in a prison of his own mother's making, a cage of expectations and lineage. This was a broken man, begging me to hear him out one final time, lost to liquor and grief over what he'd almost done, what he'd thought he'd done.
"You tried to kill me," I said then, letting the words linger in the air between us, wondering how it was the first time they'd been spoken aloud. "But I'm not your victim, Dante."
His shoulders slumped and he took a step forward, reaching for me. Then he thought better of it and let his hand drop back to his side, eyes wide and pleading but, for what, I didn't know.
"I made a mistake," he told me.
"A big one."
He nodded. There was no disagreeing with that.
"I'll never be able to make it up to you," he said.
"No," I agreed. "You won't."
The room felt suddenly too full, the atmosphere heavy and dull. My heart fell silent as if to protect itself. I could hear the coldness of my own voice, knew how harsh I was being, but I didn't care. I should have killed him already. I didn't and now I had to live with the consequences.
"I loved you—" he started.
I shook my head, backing away from him until the backs of my knees collided with the mattress.
"No," I said, breathing in sharply. "No. You don't get to say that. You don't get to pretend it's the truth."
"I did love you," he replied, frantic as if desperate for me to believe him. "Idolove you, Adrian. I—"
"No!" I screamed, rage filling me at once as shameful tears pricked my eyes. "Don't you dare! Of all the wicked things you could say to me, Dante, that's the cruelest of them all!"
"I—"
"Don't speak! How dare you ambush me like this! After what you did to me, after the choiceyoumade, you think you can wait outside my door, drunk, and try to win me back? I deserve better than that, Dante. I always have."
"You do," he agreed, nodding. "You always have. You're right. I'm not good enough for you. I never was and I never will be. I was a worthless piece of shit before the gods paired us together. You were always the strong one, always the powerful one, always the better one. I've never had anything in my life that was worth anything until I had you. And I fucked it up, like I always do, because I am what my grandfather made me. I chose him over you, over myself, and I'll never be able to live with that, not fully. BecauseIwas the one who made that choice. When it came down to it and it was just you and me, I still did what he would have wanted. How fucked up is that?"
I shook my head, unable to answer, not trusting myself to speak.
"I'll never be able to make it up to you and, to be honest, I wouldn't forgive me either," he said and his tone was soft. Something inside me cracked and I hated myself for it. "But I can't help how I feel. I've never felt a connection like that before and I know I never will again. So, whether or not you choose to acknowledge it, I know it's there. At least, for me. I still love you, Adrian. I always will."
I was shaking my head by the end of it, biting my lip and wishing I could back away even more. I didn't want this, didn't want to hear this, not from him, not anymore. I didn't want to confront what he was saying, didn't want to acknowledge those feelings that had been growing for him in the end, to consider what they might have become, what they might become anyway even if I didn't want them to.
"Adrian—" he took a step forward.
"Please go," I blurted, my voice coming out small and quiet.
He froze, hurt flashing in his eyes for a brief instant before he nodded and backed away. He didn't say another word as he headed for the door. My hands began to shake the moment he opened it and stepped out. And when he shut the door behind him, I collapsed onto my bed, dress half unzipped and tears staining the burgundy silk beneath me.
Chapter Forty-One
Dante
“In comes the end, in with the wind, in with the dust and the stone and the men. I did what I could. I will do what I can.”
— From the Journal of Eximius, Former Patriarch of House Avus
Roman had barged into my room at dawn and pulled me from my bed. Speaking as loudly as humanly possible, he informed me it was common practice in his kingdom that any soldier found drinking to excess would rise at dawn to train. I’d objected to the idea, along with the claim that I was still a soldier, but Roman had simply thrown me a sword and told me to hurry up.
