“Love is weakness!” the Duke spat as he advanced upon Alaric. “It did not save her, and it will not save you.”
As the Duke raised his hand to strike Alaric, the world tilted, and the scene changed. Alaric was a man, full-grown. He wasstanding at the altar of a church, dressed in his finest tails. For a moment, he looked around, wondering where his father had gone, and then a goddess began walking down the aisle toward him.
Catherine.
He reached toward her, his fingers outstretched. Each step she took toward him made his heart beat faster. There was no smile on her face, only a somber expression as though she were walking to a funeral.
He took a step toward her, wanting to pull her into his arms to comfort her. But his legs stayed rooted to the ground. He sensed part of himself holding back and felt a hardness settle across his heart that was both familiar and completely foreign.
Go to her, damnyou, he roared in his head, but nothing happened.Love is weakness.
The world shifted again, and he was sitting beside Catherine on a chaise longue. The fire crackled merrily in front of them, and outside, snow drifted.
He felt himself frown, glancing out of the window. “This must be a dream.”
They had not yet had a winter together, he knew that for certain. Catherine stirred beside him, softly placing her hand on hischest. It ignited a fire within him, both painful and comforting. Her smile was the final balm.
“If it is a dream, it is a pleasant one.” She leaned against him, the weight of her soothing.
His heart slowed, but a sharp sting shot up the back of his neck. He looked down at her, and a shiver ran across his entire body. Every hair stood erect. He felt something pulling him away.
“I have to stay,” he murmured. “I want to stay with you.”
The pain was growing with each moment. “Then stay.”
“I am trying.” Alaric felt beads of sweat trickle down his neck and back.
She smiled at him, and the tug away from her grew stronger. His heart felt as though it were too big for his chest. “I love you.”
Love is weakness.
The world fell away, and he was falling, tumbling into blackness.
“Catherine!” he cried out.
Pain threatened to split him in two. Someone was carving a knife down the center of him, peeling him apart like an orange.
“I am here.” A voice echoed in the darkness as he fell.
He whipped around trying to find Catherine, to see her. But all he could see were his own memories. His father beating him. His mother weeping. The first time he rode a horse. His matriculation at Oxford.
His father was on his deathbed. Alaric heard his own voice: “Your weakness dies with me.” He saw the pain in his father’s eyes and the fury as he tried to hurt him. The world roiled around him, a fierce wind whipping at his chest, his cheeks, and every exposed part of his skin, threatening to tear his clothes away. Pain like nothing he had ever known threatened to rip his limbs apart.
“Come back to me.” Catherine’s voice shook.
He had to do what she was asking. He needed to get to her.I do not even know where she is.He twisted, his eyes searching for any sign of hope in the inky black. Every movement threatened to undo him, but he did not care.
“I am trying,” he whispered into the darkness.
He felt something wet trickling across his face, the smell of lavender wrapping around him like a blanket. “Come home. Please.”
Alaric opened his eyes and groaned. Every part of him felt like he had been hit by several boulders. His stomach churned, and the dim light in the room made his head spin.
I remember. I remember it all now.
“Alaric?” He realized that Catherine’s hand was in his own, the softness of her skin a stark contrast to the dull aches across his entire body.
He tried to sit up, and the room swayed dangerously.
