A low grunt escaped Cael’s throat, but he kept his eyes aimed upwards.
“He claimed he was desperate for me. That he’d die if he couldn’t have me. Told me he’d find a way to take me with him, bring me back to Delos. He had a potion capable of masking his scent so we could take that final step without risking Mother Superior’s punishment. He promised to return for me in a month, after he’d made arrangements on the continent. Claimed there was a ball at the university that he wanted me to accompany him to.”
Xenia fought the prickling behind her eyes. She’d wasted enough tears on that manipulative scumbag.
“Of course, I gave in. Believed every single one of his seductive lies. The only thing hewasn’tlying about was the potion. After he had me—a quick, painful coupling against the stacks and not at all the romantic encounter I’d envisioned—Mother Superior never found out. He left for the continent the very next day. And I pranced around the order like a lovestruck fool for an entire month, practicing my dance steps, imagining the beautiful gown I would wear to the ball. I didn’t even consider how any of it would be possible. And of course, I never saw him again.”
Cael turned towards her, his cloudy gaze swirling with sympathy and rage.
“I wasn’t even angry with him after,” Xenia said. “I was furious with myself. How could I have been sostupid? And the worst part was he nearly ruined that library for me. The one place in the entire world I’d always felt safe and wholly myself. He’d poisoned it along with all the romantic stories I’d cherished.”
“But you’re not a cynical person, Zee. How’d you move past it?” He asked, a dose of desperation tinting his question. Like he needed the answer as much as he needed air to breathe.
“I realized he was the cynical one. He’d twisted my freely offered love and affection into something tainted and temporary. And that was his problem, not mine. Love isn’t a limited resource. There’s a boundless capacity for it within us all. Just because someone takes yours and is careless with it doesn’t mean you should stop offering.”
Cael regarded her as if she were a puzzle he was dying to solve. After several charged seconds, he gently shook his head. “I think you may be the most guileless person I’ve ever met. Why didn’t you ever tell Cassandra?”
“I didn’t want her to worry about me. She had enough she was dealing with at the time. Plus I thought she might try to track him down and maim him to defend my honor.”
Cael’s hearty laugh crinkled the corners of his eyes, lighting up his handsome face.
Xenia wanted to cross the space between their beds, taste his lips again, feel his hands on her body. Chase away the depressing memory of her first, and only, sexual encounter.
His features softened into a thoughtful sincerity. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“I’m not. What are we but the sum total of our experiences? I like to think it makes me a bit more interesting.”
“You were interesting to me before you told that story,” he whispered. “And your scholar didn’t lie about everything.”
“Oh, no?”
“Xenia, you are beautiful. And far from stupid. I want to splinter a few of his limbs for ever making you question that.”
Xenia swallowed and held her breath, feeling like she’d burst into tears the second she pulled air back into her lungs. She took a moment to compose herself. “So, that’s my one deep, dark secret. You promised me one. Better make it good. Any hidden, long-lost loves tumbling around in that stone heart of yours?”
He chuckled. “Just one,” he said, shocking her with his answer. She couldn’t imagine this grumpy, closed-off individual capable of the kind of intimacy necessary to form and sustain a love connection. “His name was Killian. We grew up together in Brachos.”
Xenia raised her eyebrows, questioning, and Cael responded, “I fall in love with the person. Their parts are irrelevant.”
“What happened to him?” she asked.
“Nothing epic or tragic,” Cael said, shrugging. “I wanted to come to the colonies and he didn’t. End of story.”
“But surely that didn’t need to be the end of your relationship? You couldn’t have visited each other on weekends or something? Made the long-distance thing work?”
Cael snorted. “The Vestians don’t work like that. It’s a full-time commitment. Doesn’t leave much room for romantic entanglements. At least not the long-term kind. And Killian didn’t want to wait for me, not that I would’ve asked him to. I heard he’d married a few decades ago. He and his husband adopted an orphaned pair of Windrider twins. I’m sure he’s much happier now than he ever would’ve been shackled to someone like me.”
“What does that mean? Someone like you?”
He turned away from her again, running a hand through his waves. “I have…episodes. That pit of numbness I mentioned earlier? Sometimes it overtakes me and I just disappear for weeks at a time. I have nothing to give myself, let alone a partner. No one needs to be subjected to that.”
“How did Killian feel about it?”
“The first few times, he was convinced he couldfixme. Like if he could just love me harder, the pit would go away and I’d snap out of it. What he never realized is that only made it worse. The guilt I felt for not being able to pull out of it, reward him for his efforts… After a while, he stopped trying. And even though I knew it was easier on him that way, it made me feel even worse. It’s part of what destroyed us, in the end. And made my decision to leave for the colonies easier. I used to tell myself that if he truly loved me, he never would’ve stopped trying. But he was a good person. It wasn’t his fault he fell in love with someone irrevocably broken.” Cael laughed bitterly. “And now my outsides match my insides. Very fitting.”
“Now who’s believing lies about themselves,” Xenia countered.
Cael turned his back to her. “Don’t waste your good heart on me, Xenia. There’s nothing waiting for you here but pain and regret. And I’m not nearly selfish enough to subject you to it.”
