Her throat tightened. She wanted to keep that happiness alive, to protect it, to be the one who gave it to her again and again.
As the music swelled, Mirela felt something settle deep within her. She looked at Claire who was so radiant, wild, alive…
Claire didn’t deserve to be locked up in a convent. She didn’t deserve to live in a bell tower. She deserved to live free, warm and under the sun. Somewhere she could dance, sing, and go about as she pleased…
Mirela made her decision right there.
They couldn’t stay. Not here. Not beneath Notre-Dame’s shadow. She would gather what little she had, toll the bells one last time, and leave.
No more convent. No more Ferron. No more cathedral.
Just them, somewhere far away. Somewhere the world couldn’t find them.
Then, suddenly, Claire reached for her.
Mirela stumbled forward as Claire tugged her into the circle, and for a heartbeat, she didn’t move. She tried to make sense of the rhythm, of where her feet were meant to go. But then Claire caught her hands and spun her around, and something broke open inside her.
Claire’s laughter startled her as she squeezed her hand and spun her again, and the rest of the worldblurred away.
The music faded, the travelers faded, the smell of meat, fruit, and sweets—all of it melted into nothing.
What remained was the warmth of Claire’s hand in hers, and the burning realization blooming in her chest that this was where she belonged.
Chapter thirteen
Claire
Clairehadn’trealizedhowlate it was until Mirela tugged her back toward the cathedral. The streets had dimmed, the last of the sunset bleeding into night. Lanterns flickered on, and the laughter from the festival softened into scattered murmurs.
Mirela’s hand was firm around hers, guiding her back toward the church’s familiar shadows, which had served as a refuge until now. But she didn’t want that anymore.
She wanted something promised beyond these stone walls. Maybe the travelers would take them in; they had always seemed kind enough to welcome anyone who dared to live without fear.
“Wait, Mirela.”
Her voice broke slightly as she stopped, her fingers tightening around Mirela’s hand. Mirela turned, startled, her face half-hidden beneath the hood.
“Do we really have to go back?” Claire asked, breathless. “Why stay in the cathedral?”
For a long moment, Mirela said nothing, and Claire feared she was about to leave her and go back to the cathedral alone.
But then she quietly said, “We’re not staying there.”
Claire blinked, taken aback. “What…what do you mean?”
Mirela took a step closer, her mismatched eyes shimmering as if she was holding back tears. “I mean we’re leaving,” she whispered. “For good.”
Claire’s breath caught. “Mirela…”
“I can’t stay there any longer,” Mirela continued, her words tumbling out, trembling. “I can’t go back and pretend the world isn’t waiting outside. Not after today. Not after you. It’s not even because I don’t want to, but…” she paused. “Claire, you deserve way more than this.”
Mirela let go of her hand to point at the cathedral and then to the streets in Paris. “You deserve the world, and I can’t give you that if I am locked up here as well.”
Swallowing hard, Mirela took a step closer, towering over her before kissing her forehead. “Claire, you make me want to know what it feels like to live. Really live. To see thesun without fear. To laugh without worrying who hears.” Her voice faltered; she took a shaky breath. “I’m terrified, Claire. Of what’s out there, of what will happen when we go, but I’m more afraid of staying. I don’t want to fade away behind those bells. I want to discover everything with you.”
Claire’s eyes burned, her heart hammering in her chest. She wanted that, she wanted all of that, and she wanted it with Mirela.
“But,” Mirela said suddenly, her voice cracking, “we have to do it right. We can’t just disappear. I need to go back just once more. I need to gather my things, toll the bells one last time. If Ferron notices I’m gone too soon…”
