Chapter 73
Chapter 73
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The rain is still coming down hard when I close the distance between us, my boots scraping against the slick stone of the balcony. The sound is faint, almost swallowed by the storm, but Wade notices anyway. His shoulders tense as though he’s bracing for impact, like I might still swing or scream or collapse into his arms if he just waits long enough.
I don’t.
Water clings to my lashes, drips from the ends of my hair, runs cold down my spine beneath the cloak. I let it. I don’t wipe my face. I don’t break eye contact. I reach into the inner pocket and pull out the handkerchief.
It’s smaller than I remember. Or maybe my hands are just steadier now.
The fabric is soft from age, worn thin at the edges, folded and unfolded so many times it never quite lies flat anymore. I rub my thumb over the stitching without thinking, muscle memory from a life that feels like it belonged to someone else. We were children when he gave it to me, both of us too young to understand what promises actually cost. He’d scraped his knee sparring with my father’s guards and tried not to cry, and I’d pressed this stupid thing into his hand like it was armor.
I step close enough to place it directly into his open palm.
His fingers curl instinctively, like his body recognizes the gesture before his brain does. His breath stutters. I feel it more than I hear it. He leans in without realizing he’s doing it, hope flickering across his face so naked it almost hurts to look at.
Almost.
My mouth curves into something that might resemble a smile if you don’t look too closely. It breaks at the edges. It doesn’t reach my eyes.
“This was never a promise,” I say quietly. The rain is loud, but my voice carries. “It was a comfort. And I don’t have anything left to give you p>
His lips part. His eyes shine like he’s on the edge of understanding and still choosing not to take the final step.
“Sorin p>
“I loved you,” I interrupt, because if I let him speak, he’ll twist it into something else. “I loved you in the way a girl loves the first person who makes her feel chosen. I loved you enough to bleed for you. That doesn’t mean you get to own the rest of my life p>
His grip tightens around the handkerchief. For a second; his fingers shake.
“I can still fix this,” he says, voice hoarse, desperate, clinging. “I swear I can p>
“I already fixed myself, Wade” I reply, stepping back. The space between us opens like a wound. “And you weren’t part of it p>
I turn before he can reach for me again. The rain soaks him where he stands, realization creeping in too slow, too late, and I don’t look back to watch it finish breaking him.
11:10 Mon, Jan 19
Chapter 73
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The corridor beyond the balcony is dim, lit only by the flicker of lightning through tall windows lining the stone walls. Thunder rolls low and heavy, vibrating through the floor beneath my boots. I walk fast at first, posture rigid, spine locked in place like if I let myself soften even a little, I’ll shatter right here in the open.
The scent of rain follows me inside, cold and sharp, mixing with polished stone and old wood. My wet clothes cling uncomfortably, fabric dragging against scars I never bother counting anymore. Water drips from my hair onto the floor, a quiet trail I refuse to acknowledge.
I round the first corner and my breath stutters once, sharp and involuntary. My shoulders sag for half a second before I force them back into place, jaw clenching so hard my teeth ache. I drag my sleeve across my face, not to dry it, just to keep moving.
Don’t fall apart here. Don’t give them that.
I turn another corner and stop short.
Ariel stands there like she’s been carved into the corridor itself, too still to be accidental. Pale fabric clings to her body, pristine despite the storm, her hair pinned perfectly in place like the rain knows better than to touch her. The flicker of lightning paints her face in stark flashes, illuminating that serene, practiced expression she wears like armor.
My eyes flick past her automatically, scanning the shadows, the open doorways, the empty stretch of hall behind her.
No Alaric.
The realization hits hard and fast, a spike of unease that slides under my ribs and settles there. I keep my face neutral.
“A little late for prayers,” I say, voice flat.
Her lips curve, slow and smug. “I was wondering how long it would take you p>
The wind surges through the open window at the end of the hall, lifting the hem of my cloak, sending cold air racing across my skin. Thunder cracks overhead, close enough that the windows rattle.
“I don’t have anything left to say to you,” I reply, stepping sideways to pass.
Her hand snaps out.
Fingers clamp around my arm, nails biting through wet fabric into skin. The grip is stronger than it has any right to be. She yanks me back, steering me bodily toward the open window, blocking my escape route with her body like she planned this down to the inch.
I plant my feet, resisting just enough to show her I’m not panicking.
“Careful,” I murmur, glancing down at her hand. “People might get the wrong idea p>
“That’s the thing about people,” she says lightly. “They always do p>
She steps closer, invading my space, chin lifting. “You look tired,” she adds. “Exile didn’t suit you p>
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Chapter 73
“Funny,” I reply. “Neither does pretending to be holy p>
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Her eyes flash, just for a fraction of a second, before she smooths it over. “You really should stop clinging to delusions. It makes you look unstable p>
I study her face, the perfect calm, the faint tension at the corners of her mouth. I tilt my head.
“Does it?” I ask. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re the one working overtime to keep things buried p>
Her fingers tighten on my arm. “You don’t know what you’re talking about p>
“Mm,” I hum. “That’s funny. Because I’ve watched every healing you’ve done. I’ve seen the aftermath. The fevers. The tremors. The way bodies break down afterward instead of getting better p>
Ever since Ariel has been sent by the temple and Wade found her first, she’s been flocked by many believers, especially with her healings to the wounded warriors.
But these same warriors always experieneced side effects, and now that everything’s clear, I could finally make out why.
Those were simple potions. Maybe poison. As she had framed me with Wade’s.
Her breath catches.
Just once.
There it is.
I lean in a fraction, lowering my voice. “A real saintess doesn’t leave rot behind,” I say softly. “And borrowed power always comes with interest p>
She stiffens, nails digging harder. “You’re lying p>
“Am I?” I shift, slipping just behind her shoulder, close enough that my words land where they can’t be overheard. “Tell me, Ariel. When did you start sleeping with the priest p>
Her head snaps toward me, eyes wide, panic raw and unfiltered before she scrambles to contain it.
“You don’t know anything,” she hisses.
“Oh, I know enough,” I say. “And Wade isn’t the only one you fooled p>
Something in her breaks.
She laughs, too loud, too sudden, the sound bouncing off stone and glass, echoing down the corridor like a warning. Then she moves fast.
She seizes both my hands and slams them onto her shoulders, fingers curling over my wrists with bruising force. Before I can wrench free, she steps backward, deliberately, until the open window presses against her spine.
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Chapter 73
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Rain lashes in, soaking us both, Wind howls through the opening, tugging at fabric and hair. My pulse slams against my throat as I realize what she’s doing.
“Ariel” I start
She screams.
Sharp. Shrill. Sustained.
“Help me p>
The sound slices through the storm like a blade,
Doors fly open down the corridor. Footsteps pound closer. Voices shout.
When they arrive, they don’t see the setup. They don’t hear the words that led us here.
They see me standing too close, hands planted on her shoulders, the open window yawning behind her, rain pouring in.
And the moment freezes in the worst possible way.
Oh come on.
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