He left her alone with her thoughts, her fears and the dying fire of the forge.
***
That night, she dreamed of fire.
She was standing in the forge, but it wasn't her forge—it was vast, stretching out in all directions, with flames that reached to the ceiling and beyond. Frederick was there, standing on the other side of the fire, his hand outstretched toward her.
Come to me, he was saying.I'll keep you safe.
But the fire was between them, growing hotter and higher with every step she took.
I can't reach you, she called back.The fire is too strong.
Then I'll come to you, he said.
And he stepped forward, into the flames.
She screamed and tried to run toward him. But the fire was everywhere now, consuming everything, and she couldn't see him anymore, couldn't hear him, couldn't…
She woke with a gasp, her heart pounding, her sheets soaked with sweat.
The room was dark and quiet. The only sound was her own ragged breathing and the distant hoot of an owl somewhere in the night.
Just a dream. It was just a dream.
But the image stayed with her; Frederick walking into flames. Sacrificing himself without hesitation, without thought for the consequences, because he loved her.
Sometimes the kindest thing you can do is let him go.
Lydia lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, and wondered if Helena was right.
The morning came grey and cold, with clouds that promised rain.
Lydia dressed slowly, her movements mechanical. She hadn't slept after the dream; she had spent the remaining hours of darkness staring at nothing, turning Helena's words over and over in her mind.
His children will pay for his choice.
Society will shun him.
He would give up everything for you.
In the cold light of morning, the words seemed even heavier than they had the day before.
She went through the motions of breakfast without tasting anything. Thomas watched her with concerned eyes but didn't ask. He knew, she realised. He always knew. But he was giving her space, letting her work through it on her own.
At the forge, she stood looking at the fire for a long time before picking up her tools.
Two more days.
One more day, she corrected herself. Helena had come yesterday. The deadline was tomorrow.
Tomorrow, Frederick would have to face his aunt. He would have to declare, publicly and irrevocably, that he was choosing Lydia over everything else.
Or he would have to walk away from her forever.
Unless you walk away first, the voice in her head whispered.Unless you make the choice for him.
She picked up her hammer but set it down again.
