I leave the area as soon as Hale is gone, deciding to head back to my room—but my eyes keep wandering on the way.
I don't mean to look for him, but he's not in any of the usual spots.
Other guards are, but Henri is nowhere to be found.
My feet slow near the main foyer. Still no sign of him.
It doesn't matter. He's probably on a different rotation.
There's an anxious flutter in my chest that has nothing to do with Ewan or the party or any of the things that should be unnerving me right now.
I want to see him.
After everything that's happened recently, I should be avoiding him. This dance of ours is becoming dangerous, and I should be putting as much distance between us as possible until I figure out what the hell is going on.
But I'm walking around like a moth seeking flame.
I find a quiet corner and stop, pressing my back against the wall.
When Henri looks at me, I remember what it feels like to be seen.
Not as Ewan's wife. Not as Hale's mother. Not as a possession or a problem to be managed.
Just…me. Whatever fractured, buried version of me still exists.
The last time—no, scratch that. The only time I've ever felt like this was with Tristan.
He used to look at me the same way.
No conditions. No expectations. Just pure, undiluted attention that made me feel like I could just be.
Henri makes me feel that way.
And if he's really Tristan, and he's been here this whole time, hiding in plain sight?—
I don't know whether to feel rescued or furious.
And if it is Tristan, then he knows about Hale somehow. That I kept this secret from him for years.
Would he even want to save me after that?
Or is he here for revenge? Giving me hope before ripping it all away from me?
My head is pounding. I can't separate what I want from what I fear might actually be true.
You need to focus. The party is tonight. Ewan is watching. One wrong move and you could lose Hale forever.
I push off the wall and keep walking.
Whatever—or whoever—Henri is, I don't have time to figure it out right now.
Hale is the only thing that matters.
So I bury the want. The confusion. The hope.
I keep walking, one foot in front of the other, back to my room where the red dress is waiting to turn me into someone I can't stand.
You can do this.
