39. Leah #3
He’s sitting with his back straighter now, like he’s steeling himself against any possible argument I could present. My anger spikes at the sight of it. He’s already decided that nothing I say will change his mind.
“Leah, I have a responsibili—”
“You were forced into your choice by Ajax. It doesn’t mean you have to be a slave to duty for the rest of your existence, Syrus!”
He flinches, and when he speaks again, his voice is rough with emotion.
“That’s easy to say for someone who can’t seem to decide where her loyalties lie.”
“What the fuck?” His words jab right through the center of me. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” he twists to look at me more directly.
“Because from where I’m standing, you were ready to sign up to spend the rest of your life in Aradis, and then, just as easily, you walked away from it.
But if your grandfather hadn’t ruined everything with his coup, you’d still be there, and I’d be back in Infernum, despite my best efforts. ”
I gape at him. “That’s low, Syrus. You’re really mad at me because I didn’t run out and choose you the moment you turned up in Aradis? How could I, given everything you kept me in the dark about?” I don’t even know how we’re back here, after everything.
“You could’ve just trusted me,” he groans. “Would it have been too much to ask, after everything I did for you? All the ways I tried to show you that I would never have kept things from you to hurt you?”
“And you could’ve just trusted me,” I say. I pull back, putting distance between us on the couch as I try to push down the sting of guilt at his question. I’ve often been awed by what Syrus has risked for me, and for him to suggest I’m ungrateful cuts deep.
But what’s worse is he seems to think that us being together now is just a side effect of our circumstances and not something we worked toward—that we earned—together, with forgiveness and a willingness to take a chance and yes, eventually, to open up.
I hate that I don’t have a way to prove him wrong, because the only evidence I have is the love burned into the very essence of me.
And try as I might, I can’t rip myself open and show that to him.
“I thought I made it clear why I couldn’t tell you the truth when you were in Aradis,” he grinds out. “I thought you understood. Was that a lie?” he demands.
“No,” I say, scowling. “I don’t blame you for not telling me about the prophecy then.
But I’m also not torturing you with hypotheticals about what could’ve been if you’d been more open with me in Infernum.
Because none of us can make perfect choices all the time, especially with so much at stake.
But you make it sound like I’m some flighty, fickle idiot who just can’t make up her fucking mind. Is that what you really think of me?”
I wish he could see what I do by now—that Aradis would’ve never been the right fit for me. I might’ve been in denial about it back then, but there’s no way I could’ve stayed there, even if I would’ve had to face very different challenges elsewhere.
“If you believe that,” I say, my voice settling into something cold and hard, “maybe you don’t know me as well as I thought.”
He leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees, studying his hands or the floor. I’m not sure which. I only know that he doesn’t meet my gaze as he speaks.
“Sometimes I’m afraid of that too.”
I make a choked gasp. I was sure there was no one else in this world who knew me better. No one’s been as close to me as him, has lived in my skin and walked in my mind. Can he really say that to me?
“It’s true,” he says, lifting his head. “I can’t ever stop loving you, Leah. But truly knowing you? That’s a different question. We were once linked so closely, and now…”
Now we can’t ever be that again. And if our relationship can’t survive without a piece of black magic neither of us ever asked for, if we can’t agree on our future without something constantly pushing us together, then maybe we’re not so destined for each other after all.
It’s an awful thought, one I don’t want to entertain, especially in the middle of all this anger.
I’m hoping my emotions are lying to me, that whatever seems totally true and immoveable now will turn flimsy and false once we’ve calmed down.
But in order to reach that calm, I need distance.
I need to talk to someone who isn’t so snarled up in their feelings for Syrus that she can’t see anything clearly.
“I’m going to see Filippa,” I say, crossing the room to grab my cloak. “I’ve only exchanged notes with her since the battle, and I want to check on her and Hodges.”
Syrus tugs a hand through his hair. “Are you sure you’re in a condition to go out?”
I pause by the door. Despite everything, he’s still concerned about me, and I still want to save him from that fear.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I say, my eyes on the door handle. “And don’t worry if I don’t come back tonight. I’ll probably stay there.”
There’s movement behind me, and I think for a moment that maybe Syrus will stop me from walking away. But he doesn’t, and I leave the room knowing he won’t try to follow.