Chapter 4 #3
His voice caught on the word away. Even now, it was the only word he could manage for what had been done to him. I felt the faint tremor of his fingers and the way his gaze flickered. Not to the side, but somewhere far off, as if pieces of him still lived in that place.
The trial for those who’d tortured and killed our fae had come and gone since then.
Those who’d tortured him were dead, and the ones who’d followed orders were now rotting in prisons.
It hadn’t erased what happened, hadn’t eased any of Etienne’s anxiety, but at least there had been a modicum of justice.
It was why the thought of leaving without him twisted in my gut. He’d been my constant through so many storms. Now, I wasn’t sure who would be there to steady him in my absence.
He trailed his knuckles across my cheek, putting the slightest pressure on my chin so I’d look back at him.
But how could I? While he’d been abducted and tortured by humans, I’d gone and fallen in love with another male.
“What you two share is beautiful and real and—”
“What you and I share is just as real,” I argued, pulling away from his touch. “You can’t tell me it isn’t.”
“Of course, it’s real, Finny, but it isn’t the same. You and I, we’re friends. That’s all we’ve ever been.”
“That’s all I need us to be to be happy.
” I shrugged, looking away to blink back the threatening tears.
“Love, relationships, they’re all about the choices we make, and I choose you.
” Somehow, I kept my voice steady despite the tears that built.
I fought them back, not wanting to share them with anyone, even Etienne.
“We make us work because we choose each other every day. That’s what we promised when we came of age nine years ago.
” We’d both been 119 years of age, and I’d known it had been the right thing to do.
“Nothing’s changed. At least not for me. ”
“Everything’s changed.” He stared at my wrist, where my bracelet sat behind the sleeve of my fighting leather. “Brenton gave you that bracelet on his fourteenth birthday. Why do you still wear it?”
I stood, the sound of the chair sliding against our wooden floor making the hairs on my arm rise. Needing space away from Etienne, from his knowing gaze and affectionate touches, I paced our open kitchen. When tears burned behind my eyes, I rushed to our back door and flung it open.
Rather than a blast of cold, it was the warm summer breeze that brushed against my face.
On a deep inhale, I took in a lungful of fresh air. Then another, hoping it might wash away the guilt from my chest.
“I love him,” I whispered. “I fell in love with him while you were being brutalized.”
When his hand landed gently on my shoulder, I flinched and shook it off. Not because I didn’t want his comfort, but because I didn’t feel right taking it. My arms wrapped tight around myself instead, holding in everything I didn’t know how to say.
“I know you did.” His quiet words held a tenderness I didn’t deserve. “While I was away, my only hope was that you were with Brenton. I’m happy you fell in love. Now, it’s time for you to live out that life with him.”
The heat in my chest rose fast, flooding my cheeks and making my head swim. How could he say that? How could he smile like that and mean it? My foot came down hard against the floor, a childish gesture I didn’t care to rein in, if only to shatter the unbearably tender expression on his face.
“That’s not the life I choose,” I said, my voice sharp. “I get a choice in this. You don’t get to take that away from me.”
Already, my parents had taken too many of my decisions from me. I wouldn’t allow anyone else to dictate my life. Not even him.
But my refusal wasn’t just for me. It was for him too.
I loved Etienne. Not in the way we once attempted, with fumbled kisses and hands that never quite knew where to land, but in the quiet, unbreakable way that bound me to his side.
For the past year, I’d held him through the night terrors, watched the headaches hollow him out, and steadied him when the world closed in without warning.
Losing him once had nearly destroyed me.
How could he want me to walk away when he still needed someone in his corner? When I still need him.
“You get a choice,” he agreed gently. “All I ask is that you open yourself up to Brenton while you’re gone. Let him love you. Let yourself love him. See where it takes you. When you return home, if you still choose me, we’ll move forward with our intended ceremony.”
Brenton. The bond between us tugged at my heart, at my soul, and I knew falling for him again would be as easy as breathing.
But the unknown terrified me. He’d already walked away from me once, back when I didn’t fully understand what was happening and chose Etienne as my intended.
I wasn’t sure I could survive him walking away a second time.
I rubbed my sweaty palms on the pants of my leathers.
“If you choose him, and I truly hope you do, I will tell my parents I broke off our contract.”
He was quick to wipe away the stubborn tear that slid down my cheek. When his arms encircled me, I went to him, bowing my head until my forehead pressed against his shoulder.
“I’ll make sure your parents won’t have to pay my parents back for the money they already received.”
He would do it too. I wasn’t sure how he’d find a way to break the contract, but I knew he would, just as he would ensure my parents’ social standing didn’t suffer.
But if I agreed to this madness, they wouldn’t receive the remainder of the money they’d been promised.
Already, they were living on borrowed money they couldn’t repay.
I didn’t tell Etienne that, not wanting him to further fall victim to my parents’ manipulations and attempt to rescue them. Either I’d do it myself, or I’d let them fall.
It was, at the very least, what they deserved.
His words though. . .
“All I ask is that you open yourself up to Brenton while you’re gone. Let him love you. Let yourself love him.”
I hated the guilt that came with even thinking about Brenton, hated the flicker of anticipation I couldn’t quite smother. The bond between us pulled, whispering promises of what could be if I let it.
But I’d closed that door years ago when I gave in to my parents’ need, not that he’d ever know that.
He’d believed—he’d have to believe—that despite our soul-bond, I loved Etienne and had committed my life to him.
Even if it so often tore at my soul.
Even if I’d had to watch him flit from female to female when he wanted company.
Even if I had to feel his anger and not his friendship. Not his love.
Even if I still touched the crystals he’d given me so, so long ago.
My life was one of sacrifice, always had been. And despite Etienne’s words, it always would be.