Chapter Thirty-Five
We lay awake, unspeaking in the dark.
I listened as a light rain started up beyond the windows, aware of Noé shifting in bed beside me but determined to avoid rolling over and addressing him at all costs. In my mind, the words he’d spoken to me in the carriage cycled, keeping me from sleep.
You could have come to me at the start of the Vainglory on your knees, clad in nothing but rags. You still would have won.
Breathing was difficult. More than anything else, I was angry—angry at his foolish, false confessions, angrier at the part of myself which had leaned into them, desperate for more.
Was I truly this weak? I had given myself to Eliot, had told him that I loved him, and even if he had since left me, I nevertheless felt that the admission was binding.
An oath signed in blood, unable to be broken except by the final swing of death’s iron sword.
In my core, I understood: If I gave in to this temptation, I would prove all his worst impressions of me correct. I would be unfaithful, as cruel as he claimed.
And I would never forgive myself for it.
My lungs compressed as Noé turned on his side, the mattress dipping to accommodate the motion.
The narrowness of our separation seemed so apparent now, so fragile.
Only a few inches of space between one decision and another.
Suddenly, it felt miraculous that we’d preserved the boundary for as long as we had, like peering over a bridge and seeing the water swirling there, just below one’s feet.
To fall was natural; it was so much harder to remain aloft.
For a moment, I let myself imagine it—reaching over and touching him. After tonight, I knew he would not deny me; there would be a brief moment of confusion, perhaps, but then—
His skin against mine. His teeth at my throat. I’d watched him before, at dinner; I’d seen how he bit into his food, eagerly and with gusto. How, when he drank wine, he let the liquid spill down his neck, trickling over his jaw.
I already knew how he would kiss me.
Drawing an inhale, I severed the scene. I was a rational creature, and as stubborn as a mule. I had made the decision to be Eliot’s. I’d damn myself before I went back on that promise.
I closed my eyes. Whatever my other failings, I would remain loyal.
And all else would remain a dream.