Page 48 of Outcast’s Vow

“You like taking an interest in me?” Sylvie interrogates.

“I do.”

Now it’s Sylvie’s turn to take a long drink.

“I need to ask you a question,” she says. “Something serious. Something you can’t brush off with your annoying swagger. A question you didn’t answer earlier.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why all of this? Why today? Why all that effort just to please me? I’ve not done anything for you.”

“It doesn’t need explaining again. You’re my wife.”

“Jeez, Baptiste, if you really keep talking like this and...”

“And what, Highness?”

“Well, I’ll scarily start to truly believe you when you call me beautiful. That this isn’t just revenge on what I did on our wedding night. I might believe that your whole belief system was simply a mirage. And I might start believing you’re being serious, and that you might actually, truly like me.”

She lets out a soft laugh. Half-nervous and half-pointed. She’s certain she’s knocked me off balance.

I could let her believe it.

I hold her gaze a second too long. There’s a lie on the tip of my tongue, something that could breeze over what she just said, but I let it pass. Because that’s the thing...

What if this isn’t revenge for our wedding night?

What if this is something far, far worse?

I don’t dare utter it out loud, but I’m thinking it. My face must betray me, because Sylvie watches me intently. As if she sees it... the truth I’m trying to hide from myself. Her fingers tighten around the stem of her wine glass. The only sounds are the crackling of the candles and the gentle icy wind of the mountains.

I consider telling a lie. Something to cover it all up. But my wife gets there first.

“I was really appreciating our mutual hatred,” Sylvie says. “Let’s not end it.”

It seems like we both panicked there.

“Let’s not.”

Sylvie shakes her head and glances down, playing with the tablecloth between her fingers, distracted, like she’s imagining it’s me she’s touching instead.

Her armor is shattering apart now.

“I can’t believe you would do all that today for me,” she says under her breath.

“Well, you'd better start believing it, Highness. Because I’m going to keep doing this. Day after day after day. And you can’t say a damn thing to stop it.”

Sylvie smiles.

“There’s your control again, husband. Don’t start thinking you’ve earned my yes.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I reply. “Not yet.”

19

SYLVIE

I am starting to believe it... I am starting to believe that all the disdain between Baptiste and me is evaporating faster than snow on a hot summer’s day every minute – every second – we spend together. And it has all culminated in this moment. Here, at the dinner table.