I didn’t know what to feel anymore. It was all too much. Too overwhelming. And I was tired.
“I’ll never be enough for you,” I said quietly. “I’ll always be that person that the nobles whisper about at your parties. You won’t defend me against them. I’ll be alone. Just like tonight.”
My future was so clear if I stayed.
It hit me like a stone wall, one I’d been sprinting toward. Andnow, dazed and hurt in the aftermath, I saw what a hopeless and naive fool I’d been. To hope that someone like Kaldur could love someone like me.
He’d been right about that at the very least.
“Your greedy ambitions leave something to be desired,” Kaldur said, his voice cold. “I see what you’re trying to secure for yourself—and for Luc. And I want you to know that Iknow. Your own friend, Velle, told me everything. She warned me about you. But I’ll play along for now. I’ll give you the credits and the status you desire. But if you’ve set your sights onKylaira…”
I sucked in a sharp breath. Lady of the keep.
“It will never happen,” Kaldur said quietly and simply. “I understand who you are now, Erina Denoren. If anything, this is a punishment for me too.”
For him? What was he talking about?
“So is that what you want? To be my mistress?” he asked, coming closer. His fingers brushed over my cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His voice was gentle, but there was only distrust in his eyes. “It would be an ascension from blood giver. Shall I have another contract drawn up? How much will you require? Will twentyvrona month be enough for you and your beloved Luc, or do you want more?”
I flinched back, away from his touch. I felt like curling up into myself like crushed, crumpled parchment.
“Keep your credits,” I said, my voice sounding as hollow as my chest. “I don’t want them.”
Kaldur smirked. But when I didn’t react further, that smile died. His eyes flickered back and forth between my own, as if trying to read me. “What?”
“I made all kinds of excuses for you in my head,” I whispered. “For why you treated me poorly. Because I understood. I know better than anyone what I am. I know the life I was dealt by fate. I’m not a noble. I’m an orphan who became a keeper. I never liedabout that. But I constantly lied to myself aboutyoubecause I didn’t want to see the truth.”
“And what truth is that?”
“You’re not anything like I’d hoped you’d be.”
Kaldur’s gaze went past me—to the textured wall of wind patterns, his eyes tracing them—as if he couldn’t stand to look at me anymore. “I did tell you I’d only disappoint you. And here is the reality of it. No one can live up to ideals in your head, littledallia. You’re foolish to believe anyone can.”
The sweet name sounded mocking now, reminding me of the afternoon we’d had in the garden, under the shade of a tree, as we’d talked of fables.
“I won’t make that mistake again,” I said, holding his eyes.
I’d heard what I’d needed to.
I’d been a dreamer for too long. And now I was crashing back down to reality. Why was I surprised when that impact scattered me into millions of fragmented pieces?
Just like the vase I’d admired, the one Lydrasa had broken, I could try to put myself back together, but I would always be cracked and marked. Marked by this. Marked byhim.
I couldn’t stay. That much was clear.
Kaldur wouldn’t care if I left. He’d made that abundantly clear tonight. Velle had, apparently, been in his ear the entire time. I didn’t trust anyone. I felt utterly alone.
And there was only one person I wanted to see. One person who had always felt like home.
I thought this might be the last time that I saw Kaldur of House Kaalium.
“The first time I saw you,” I started, “it was out on the terrace by the gardens. My very first day when Maudoric was showing me the keep. The moment I saw you, it was like the world swirled and everything was more beautiful.”
His brows lowered. He frowned.
“Youwere beautiful to me then,” I said. “But you were just aridiculous dream. And now I know what you’re really like. That makes me feel better, at the very least. It gives me peace. Closure.”
I looked up at him. A face I’d drawn countless of times in pencil. Every sharp slice of shadows across his features, every tilting, curled smirk of his lips.
