Page 71 of Hunger & Harmony

“It doesn’t matter.”

The disjointed melody crescendos, growing louder like it wants to drown out his voice.

“It doesn’t matter?” he echoes, crossing the distance between us. “That’s a lie. You’re lying to me.”

“You’re lying to yourself,” I whisper, stepping back again. “Look around. We’re in Sancte Noctis. Where you belong.”

He shakes his head, backing me to the wall. I hate how my body leans into him when there’s nowhere to run, how relief fights the worry as his scent envelopes me.

“You belong, too,” he says, and I press my hands to his chest.

In return, his hands find my waist. He doesn’t hold me still or pin me in place. His hands are a simple prayer against red silk, and I so badly want to answer it.

“I don’t.”

“You belong where I am.” He stares down at me, and I know he’s speaking his heart. “If you hate it, tell me where to go. Anywhere, I promise, we can go there.”

“You can’t,” I say, trying to push him away. “You can’t abandon your people. Arteria are waiting for the ritual to start as we speak.”

I give up trying to push and grip the fabric of his shirt instead. It feels wrong to bunch the opulent fabric between my fingers. Somehow, the wrong notes sound right, but are no different from before. Maybe it’s my own acceptance of them.

“I don’t want this burden.”

Niko stills. I let my words linger for a moment.

“I don’t want the burden of breaking your crown. For destroying your people. For hurting Arteria.”

Looking up at him, my heart constricts in agony. Because it’s not just my desires. It’s not just his promises.

“I want you,” I whisper, a few tears betraying me. “But I can’t hold that.”

His eyes lower to the single tear dripping off my chin. When it stains my dress, his expression falters.

“I’d never want that,” he says. “I’d never burden you.”

When his hands fall back to his sides, I damn myself for missing his touch. But I won’t do that to him. I won’t reach back out when we know the end.

His face hardens, and it reminds me of when we first arrived. He’s no longer showing his true self—he’s an echo of his Court.

Hurt calcifies into numbness. We stand before each other no better than strangers.

“Your Majesty.”

I can’t look at Selene.

“I know,” he tells her.

With no hesitation, he turns away. I don’t have the guts to watch him leave. I can’t look until his shadow has left the hallway.

My breaths come shallow. At least I’m a coward doing the right thing.

Why does it feel so wrong, then?

I let my chest heave and my sobs echo. It’s my only release from this horrible, horrible festering in my stomach. I invite the wrong notes to dance around me. No point in denying them.

The moon stares at me, and I turn to the wall. I’m ashamed to look at what once promised hope. I’m no longer the same woman looking back.

I’m not sure how long it’s been when a swell of music interrupts my crying fit. Not that I pull myself from the wall. I know that signature guitar note, and Ryel is the last one I’d stop crying for.