It had been the best meal of her life.
But she slept fitfully, waking to a fierce thunderclap and unable to fall back asleep. She’d occupied herself by staring at Nik, who was as comfortable as she’d ever seen him. With his guard down, the hard edges of his face were smoothed into boyish softness. She’d thoroughly mussed his curls, and his lips were perfectly swollen from their kisses. He even smiled when she stroked a lock of his hair from his brow.
Maybe this could work.
Maybe playing the Counseil’s game was the only way.
Elara might not be Souverain material, but she’d learn.
Those worries were for a world outside of these walls.
In here, Elara had a bigger truth to face.
She’d fallen in love.
Her clothes were still damp when she pulled them back on.
She left her coat for Nik to curl into as he fell back to sleep.
His plans were still on the counter, dappled by morning light. When had he made the time to draw them? They were detailed, whichmeant he must’ve visited this place more than once to determine the measurements.
Everything he dreamed of for her felt possible. Using the formula against Lafontaine, she could become Souverain. With that power and money, she could buy this building and begin construction immediately. People could come and learn any skill they pleased, and the Restes would begin to heal.
Chantal could have her studio, and Elara would supply the lunches.
Blai could work for the theatre once more.
And Nik…
What did he want? Would he take up drawing? Painting? Perhaps he’d find his love in gardening like his mother.
Whatever he chose, they’d make it real.
After tea, of course.
The hinges of the kitchen door squeaked as she crept through.
It was a mess.
The oven was rusted shut, the abandoned kettle burned beyond use. The tap sputtered, releasing a few flecks of water. No power. No water.
It was a sign to return home and prepare for the finale.
Except something that definitely shouldn’t have been there caught her eye.
A bouquet of freshly cut lavender, the colors stark against the gray.
“Lavande somnolente.”
The bundle fell from her fingers. Her heart stuttered as she turned to the face that had haunted her nightmares last night.
“Lafontaine.”
He stood in the far corner of the kitchen, hidden in shadow. The first weak hues of dawn burned through the slats over the window, slicing golden arcs against his white robes. He stepped farther into the light,shadows now cutting across his face. He looked haggard, as if he hadn’t slept well last night.
“She was always so curious. About everything.” He gave such a genuine, soft smile that he almost seemed human.
“Nik’s mother?” she asked through her teeth.
