Chapter 27 August
August
We walked in silence through town. The snow had already melted in patches along the edges, exposing dead grass and dark earth beneath, but the chill still clung to the air.
I kept a few paces behind her—not to let her lead, but because I didn’t trust myself to walk beside her yet.
Not when my chest still ached with the weight of what I’d seen.
She hadn’t cried at first. She never did. Winnie was too proud, too angry, too determined to be strong. But when she did… it undid something in me.
All this time, I thought pushing my feelings for her down was the only way to survive this. That distance would protect us both. That if I could just keep it physical—keep her angry—then maybe I could keep her alive.
But watching her break like that…
I realized too late that I hadn’t protected anything. Least of all myself.
I loved her.
Gods, I loved her. And I was so fucking tired of pretending I didn’t.
I let her hate me. Let her believe the worst about me. Because I thought that was easier than facing what I felt. I thought if she hated me, it would make things simpler.
It didn’t.
It made everything worse.
Now, watching her walk down the street in silence, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her head lowered against the cold, I knew I was done fighting it. All of it.
No more masks. No more distance. No more pretending.
I had spent so long trying to keep her at arm’s length, and I hadn’t even realized how empty that made me. But now… I couldn’t go back to pretending. Not after today.
I’d fight for her now, even if I had to fight her for it.
I would let Winnie use her magic to take us back to the castle eventually, but right now, she looked like she needed this quiet walk—alone in her thoughts, surrounded by the silence she couldn’t find anywhere else.
But the calm shattered when I saw Adar charging toward us.
“Bronwen!” he yelled.
She jumped like she’d seen a ghost. I stepped up next to her, ready. Though I didn’t know for what.
She didn’t look at me, just kept her eyes fixed ahead, wide and unfocused. Her voice came barely above a whisper. “He knows.”
I frowned. “About the graves?”
She shook her head, breath catching. “About Bodaira.”
Here we go.