Chapter 39 #3
Something hot and sharp flared in her chest. She missed her next block entirely, earning a bruise from Barrett’s practice sword and a concerned look from Gideon.
“Focus,” he said quietly.
She wanted to laugh. Or scream. Focus? When Auren was right there, close enough to see but impossibly distant, acting like the last two weeks, the last everything, hadn’t happened?
The rest of practice passed in a haze of barely controlled fury. The moment Nareen dismissed them, Cassara was moving. Not toward Auren, that would be too obvious, too public. But to her room, where she scrawled a single word on paper with hands that shook.
Overlook.
She slipped it under his door that evening, then made her way to their spot.
Night fell.
The air grew cold.
She waited.
He came so quietly she almost missed it. For a moment they just looked at each other, taking inventory, measuring changes. He seemed thinner, sharper somehow. The moonlight caught angles in his face that hadn’t been there before.
“You look well,” he said finally.
The banality of it snapped something inside her.
“That’s what you lead with? ‘You look well’?” She stepped forward, fists clenched. “Two weeks, Auren. Two weeks of nothing. Not a word about where you went, what happened, why you showed up bleeding.”
“You know I can’t—”
“Don’t.” The word cracked like a whip. “Don’t tell me you can’t. You came to me. You trusted me enough to help you, but not enough to tell me why?”
His expression hardened. “It’s not about trust.”
“Then what is it about?”
“Protection.” He moved closer, and she could see it now, the careful way he held himself, the lingering stiffness that spoke of wounds not fully healed. “The less you know, the safer you are.”
“From what?” She was nearly shouting now, weeks of fear and fury pouring out. “What could be worse than wondering if you’re dead? Then seeing you across the field and not knowing if tomorrow you’ll vanish again?”
“Cassara—”
“I kissed him.”
She hadn’t meant to say it, not like that, not as a weapon. But they were out now and there was no taking it back.
Auren went very still.
“Gideon,” she clarified unnecessarily. “During break. I kissed him.”
Pain flickered across his face, though it was gone too quickly to be sure. When he spoke, his voice was terribly gentle.
“Maybe that’s for the best.”
The quiet acceptance of it hit harder than anger would have. “What?”
“You should be with someone who can give you what you deserve.” He looked away, toward the forest. “Someone who doesn’t have to hide. Who can stand beside you in daylight instead of meeting in shadows.”
“I don’t want—”
“Yes, you do.” He turned back, and his eyes were infinite and sad. “You want the truth, and I can’t give it. You want certainty, and I offer only secrets. You want a future, and I…” He stopped, swallowed. “I can only promise you locked doors and lies.”
“That’s not—”
“It is.” He stepped closer. “Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But eventually, you’ll resent it. Resent me. The weight of what we can’t have will poison what we do, until there’s nothing left but bitterness.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” His hand came up like he might touch her cheek, then fell away. “I’ve seen it happen. I’ve watched love turn to ash under the pressure of too many secrets. I won’t—” His voice roughened. “I won’t do that to you.”
“So you’re giving up?” Anger flared again, hot and desperate. “That’s it? You’re just… done?”
“I’m trying to save you.”
“I don’t need saving!” She shoved him, hard enough to make him step back. “I need honesty. I need to know you won’t disappear every time things get difficult. I need—”
“Someone else.” The words were quiet but final. “You need someone else, Cassara.”
The certainty in his voice broke something inside her. She stared at him, this man who’d held her like she was precious, who’d kissed her like worship, who now stood there calmly dismantling everything between them for her own good.
“You promised we were in this together.”
“I know, I’m sorry—”
“You’re a coward,” she whispered.
He flinched but didn’t deny it.
“Fine.” She stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. “If that’s what you want—”
“It’s not about what I want.”
“Right. It’s about protecting me.” The words tasted bitter. “How noble. How perfectly self-sacrificing. I’m sure you’ll comfort yourself with that when you’re alone.”
She turned to leave, then stopped.
One last shot, one last truth to fling at him.
“I kissed him,” she said without looking back. “But I thought of you.”
She left before he could respond, fleeing down stone steps and through empty corridors. Only when she reached her room did she let herself fall apart. She sat on the edge of the bed shaking with fury, with loss, with the terrible finality of it all.
He was right about one thing—she did want more than shadows and secrets.
But gods help her, she’d have accepted all of it, if it had meant staying together.
Now she had nothing.
Tomorrow they’d face the arena. She’d have to stand strong, lead her fractured team, pretend everything was fine.
She pressed her face into her pillow and tried not to think about how “for the best” felt exactly like heartbreak.