“Isabelle asked me, ‘What’s next now that we have the dagger?’” My voice rose with bitter recollection. “I told her to forget the dagger. That it didn’t matter, that none of it mattered anymore.”
I exhaled, shaking my head. “My heart was too crushed to care about relics, about missions. All I wanted was them. I wanted to find a way to be with them both. To love Armand and Isabelle freely.”
My lips curled into something that was not quite a smile. “But they looked at me with derision.”
I turned my gaze to Roman, searching his expression for recognition or understanding.
“Roman—excuse me, Armand—said, ‘There’s no way we can be with you. The village would object.”
I scoffed, the words still stinging even after centuries. “His face flushed as if embarrassed. As if he couldn’t even bring himself to look me in the eye. So, I told him—it would be our secret. The village would never have to know.”
Silence settled between us, thick and unrelenting.
I let out a breath, my voice lowering. “But Armand didn’t waver. He stared away from me and said, ‘Not in this lifetime, Malik. Not in this lifetime.”
I studied Roman’s face, reading every twitch of muscle, every shift in his gaze. Was it regret? Determination? Sorrow? Intrigue?
Or perhaps it was all of them.
Finally, Roman looked away.
A muscle in my jaw twitched. “Armand ordered me out.” The words were precise. “He said, ‘We brought you in. We cared for you. We made you part of our family. And you betrayed me. You stole my wife’s affection.”
I clenched my fists, fighting against the emotions threatening to drag me under. “He looked at me then, and I saw the full extent of his anger for the first time.”
My voice wavered, barely above a whisper now. “‘Now I know why Isabelle was so distant on our travels,’ he told me. ‘It took us months to repair our relationship.’”
I let the words settle and carve their way through the silence. Then, I turned my gaze back to Roman, my expression unreadable.
“I told him I couldn’t control the darkness.”
I tilted my head slightly.
“If I want something, I take it.”
The room fell into suffocating silence.
Roman’s jaw was clenched so tightly I swore I could hear his teeth grinding.
And Olivia lowered her gaze, staring at her lap as if my words were too much to bear.
Roman squeezed the back of his neck, tension radiating from every movement.
Olivia turned to him, her eyes filled with something that cut deeper than anger—remorse.
Remorse for ever having loved me.
I hadn’t thought my heart could bear any more pain. But this? This ripped something inside me that I had fought centuries to keep intact.
I couldn’t stay here.
“I’ll be right back,” I muttered, turning on my heel and striding out of the room before their presence suffocated me.
The cold air bit at my skin as I inhaled deeply outside. Overhead, the sky was beginning to pale, that fragile hour where night begins surrendering to dawn.
I tilted my head back, letting the vastness of the heavens swallow me whole. A sea of stars stretched endlessly beyond my reach, untouched by the fleeting trivialities of human emotion.
This pain was temporary.
