It had been over between her and Gavril for a long time, but now there was a reality to it all.
Because Marcella had kissed him back.
And it had been easier when she’d hated the girl, but Aimilia couldn’t pretend she still did to soothe her own ego. Aimilia couldn’t hate her. She hadn’t asked for any of this. She hadn’t deserved any of this. How could Aimilia hate her for loving Gavril? Of course she loved him.
How could any woman not fall in love with him with the way he loved?
Aimilia had fallen for him even when he’d never shown her such affection.
She could not go on loving him this way, but Aimilia loved him the way she breathed. Her love for Gavril had been part of her so long, she did not know how to live without it. It was instinctual.
Where was she to even begin carving that love out of herself?
What if she never could?
What if she was condemned for the rest of her life to love him in agonizing silence, trying to smile and feel more happiness for him than heartbreak for herself?
Footsteps sounded, but Aimilia didn’t care. Her runes would keep her from being discovered, and they would pass on by.
Only… they didn’t.
Aimilia looked up from her tearstained cloak right as Nikias took a seat on the alcove’s bench. His injured arm was in its sling, tucked to his chest. She held her breath, even though there was no point with the rune hovering around her.
What was he doing there?
She was tempted to reveal herself by kicking him in the thigh. The reason she’d even seen Marcella and Gavril kiss was because she’d gone to get him so she and Gavril could reveal Gavril’s feat in being able to learn how to cast with one hand. She’d brought him to the library and they’d both stumbled upon the scene.
Afterwards, she’d been able to forget about her heart being scattered across the library floor because of Nikias’ refusal to believe them or even let them attempt to show him their work.
There’d been no reasoning with him. Aimilia didn’t know why they’d even tried.
Aimilia stayed perfectly still.
Maybe he’d get up and leave.
Nikias watched the empty hallway, not bothering to even look out the window behind them.
She had nothing else to do but observe him. It was so strange seeing him in white and red again after so long all he’d donned was black. She still didn’t fully understand what exactly had changed in him to abandon the mourning clothes he’d sworn he would wear for the rest of his life.
After a few minutes, Nikias shifted, stretching his legs out slightly and softly saying, “How long do you want to just keep staring at me, Commander?”
Aimilia banished her runes. “How did you know I was here?”
Nikias moved now that he could see her, putting his good hand on the stone of the bench. “I found you here before. It was a lucky guess.”
Aimilia’s breath caught at the reminder of the last time they’d been in this alcove, Aimilia crying over Gavril. If only she’d known then what she would be in for when Gavril returned from his mission…
Aimilia reached up, taking a shuddering breath and using her cloak to wipe at her eyes. “Congratulations. Now can you please go away? I’ve seen enough of your face today and I have nothing left to say to you.”
“I’m afraid I have no intention of going anywhere.” Nikias drew one leg up on the bench so he could face her. He grimaced when the movement jostled his bad arm. “Might I propose a truce? Set everything else aside for right now and just…”
Aimilia blinked at him. “And just what? We’re not friends.”
Nikias sighed. “At the risk of incurring your anger, Aimilia, the only friend you’ve ever truly had is the reason you’re crying right now.”
He had her there.
“So… truce?” Nikias asked, and there was something almost soft in his eyes.
