“The second document grants my father’s endorsement of her marriage to Mr. Tobias Reynolds. The Council has also generously agreed to waive the usual year of attornment in exchange for the quiet resolution of a matter which I assume Ms. Fairchild has just made you aware of.”
“Sign it, Father,” I say quietly, “and the truth disappears with me at midnight.”
A torrent of emotions ripples across his face as he reads the document—twice, as he always does, ensuring he misses nothing. Then his gaze lifts to meet mine.
“You really think you have it all figured out, don’t you?” he sneers.
But there it is. The flicker in his eyes. Anger. Defeat. And something darker—pride.
I beat him. He knows it. Hates it. And is proud all the same, in his own twisted way.
To my relief, he signs. He thrusts the parchment toward Aaron without another word, then storms from the room.
Lori follows, one hand cradling the slight swell of her belly—the unborn half-sibling I’ll never meet. I send a silent prayer to Rexen that it’s a boy. That he lives.
Kat stares after them for a long moment.
Aaron steps forward and offers her the parchment. She takes it with shaking hands, staring down at the ink as if it’s both a miracle and an insult.
“Go on,” I say softly. “Sign it.”
Her lip trembles. “Why would you give this to me?”
“Because it’s yours.”
“Yours?” she snaps, eyes glistening. “You think this makes us even?”
“Kat—”
“You’ll never understand,” she says, her voice breaking with fury.
She signs. Hard. Then shoves the parchment into Aaron’s hands and turns on me.
“May the gods take you quickly, sister,” she says coldly. “And may they forgive you. Because I never will.”
She leaves without looking back. The door slams hard enough to rattle the glass.
Silence floods the room.
I don’t realize I’m shaking until Aaron steps closer.
“Selene,” he says gently.
I press my lips together, trying not to cry. Trying to be finished with tears.
He hesitates, then lifts his hands, cradling my face. The tenderness of it nearly breaks me.
“I owe you a lifetime of thank-yous,” I whisper, unable to hide the emotion in my voice.
“You don’t owe me anything,” he says softly, his thumb brushing away the tear that escapes anyway. After a tense moment, he speaks again. “May I kiss you?” he breathes.
“For luck?” I manage.
He nods. I nod back, closing my eyes as if that might still the storm inside me.
He kisses my cheek, his touch warm and lingering. Then he pulls back. My eyes flutter open to find him searching my face, as if memorizing it. As if he knows this is the last time.
Then he kisses me.
