I hesitated, wrestling with the tangled mess of thoughts in my mind, until clarity broke through like sunlight piercing heavy clouds.
“I deserve love.”
Pride shone on her face. Whether it was for me or her, it was unclear.
“You absolutely do. If someone else entered your life now, could you lower your walls enough to let them in?”
One face emerged instantly, vivid and unmistakable. It startled me with its certainty, and my heart skipped painfully. Yet I knew my answer, undeniable and powerful in its truth.
“I think I could.”
Adina’s smile widened, filled with quiet satisfaction.
“Congratulations, Mavis. You’ve completed your sessions.”
Chapter 44
“By royal decree, the Guild for Religious Conservation is permitted to instruct the Order of the Veil on behalf of the king.”
- Addendum to Article 1, Section 1, of the Veiled Compendium
It had been two weeks of pointed silence—two weeks of evading Rowan’s gaze, his voice, his presence. Every time he entered a room, I found a reason to leave it. With every glance he offered, I purposely averted my eyes. I was running from him, but more than anything, I was running from myself. Deep down, I knew avoidance wasn’t sustainable.
Eventually, I was going to give in.
Rowan must have sensed it too, because after lunch one afternoon, he finally cornered me in an isolated corridor. He stepped in front of me, his tall frame effectively blocking my path, his arms folded resolutely across his chest.
“We need to talk.” His voice was firm, though a hint of uncertainty softened the edges of his usual stoicism.
“I disagree,” I retorted flatly, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Mavis,” he sighed, stepping closer. His scent, warm and comforting—sandalwood and a hint of leather—flooded my senses and sent an involuntary flutter racing through my chest. “Please.”
I finally lifted my eyes, intending to snap a biting remark, but the look on his face halted the words on my tongue. He wasn’t guarded; not now. Instead, he stood exposed, vulnerability clear in the crease of his brow, the quiet desperation reflected in his expressive eyes. I released a heavy, reluctant breath.
I clenched my jaw, the part of me that still wanted to punish him warring with the one that just wanted to understand.
“Fine,” I said at last. “Talk.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, visibly uncomfortable. “I wanted to apologize for the way I left so abruptly. I know how it must have seemed.”
I arched a brow. I doubt he apologized often, and it meant a great deal, but this hurt couldn’t be so easily erased. I had felt rejected by someone I had corrupted my morals for and grown to care about. That couldn’t just be swept aside.
“When you kissed me… I was surprised,” he continued quietly, his voice barely audible. “Not that I regretted it. I didn’t, and I still don’t… but I was called away, and honestly, I needed to get away to sort some things through.”
“Did you figure it out?” I asked, my voice softer than intended. “Whatever you needed to sort?”
He took a deep breath, stepping even closer. His voice was low, intimate. “I’m starting to.”
I pressed my lips together, unwilling to make it easier for him. His hesitation lingered, the tension thick between us.
“I know you’re still angry with me, partly because I left and partly because I can’t tell you everything yet,” he said, straightening slightly, a faint challenge entering his gaze. “Maybe you’d like to take out some of that frustration?”
My curiosity stirred momentarily, overriding my stubborn pride. “You’re offering to spar?”
“Yes. I want to see how much you’ve improved while I was gone.” His lips quirked. “Let’s see how angry you really are.”
A small, wicked smile spread across my lips.
