Page 103 of The Darkest Oath

“Well,” Hugo began. “She loves you more than she does me; she’s made that plain enough. But if you will not marry her, and she marries me instead,” his voice tightened, “you cannot keep coming back and haunting her.”

Rollant thinned his lips, forcing himself to quiet the rebuttal rising in his throat and to speak the words that needed to be said. “I told her to marry you, Hugo.”

Hugo’s arms dropped. “You did what?” he stammered. His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You told her to marry me?” His voice cracked. “Why? If you love her, why tell her that?”

Rollant’s voice was steady, but the weight behind the words burned like ash in his throat. “I do love her more than life itself. But you’re a good man, and you love her.” He looked away, his gaze trailing to the mid-morning sun on the horizon. “I told her you could give her everything I can’t—a future.” His voice dropped lower. “But knowing it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Hugo shifted, as if unsure what to say.

Rollant’s gaze drifted to where Élise disappeared into Hugo’s family home. “Though I long to be with her, my circumstances might never allow it. I told her that her love for me would fade if she let me go, but I would always love her. That will never change.” Rollant locked eyes with Hugo. “Therefore, the choice is hers—to wait for something that may never be or to nurture what she already has in you.”

Hugo nodded, running a hand through his hair. “So if she chooses you, then I’ll be the fool,” he muttered.

“Give her time. Give her space,” Rollant said, placing a heavy hand on Hugo’s shoulder. “I envy you,” he said quietly.

Hugo frowned. “Me? Why me?”

Rollant shook his shoulder once, a faint, sad smile touching his lips. “You’re here with her. You heal people. You have the kind of life I’ll never know.”

Hugo studied him, his brow furrowing. “And if I were you?”

Rollant smiled faintly, though there was no humor in it. “You’d be trapped with no end in sight.”

Hugo hesitated, searching Rollant’s face. “Could you resign?”

“If I resigned, they would follow me here, assuming I opposed their policies, and they would likely imprison all of us.”

His tone dipped.

“I am stationed at the Temple now. If the atrocities spill beyond its walls, I will come for you and take you to another of my estates.”

He met Hugo’s gaze, grim.

“The four families. Élise. All of you must be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. The National Guard watches for any sign of dissent. If they suspect Charonne harbors sympathies for the crown, they will not hesitate.”

Hugo’s face paled. “And if they come?”

“All of you will be imprisoned or worse,” Rollant said, his words like a blade. “So you must be prepared. Tell no one else. The wrong word to the wrong person could cost every life here.”

Hugo’s expression softened, though his grip tightened on his coat. “We’ll be ready,” he said.

Rollant nodded once. He turned to leave, but Hugo’s voice stopped him. “And what of Élise?”

Rollant didn’t look back.

“She’ll make her choice,” he said, praying she chose Hugo for her sake and future, though the thought wrenched his soul.

* * *

The jeweler’sworkshop smelled of molten silver and oil, the air thick with the hum of industry. Rollant stood before the counter, turning a plain silver band between his fingers, his expression unreadable. The craftsman watched him carefully, waiting for approval.

“This will do,” Rollant murmured, though his voice lacked conviction.

The ring was simple—unadorned, save for the small, circular insignia etched onto its surface: a mountain with three stars above it.

Faith. Honor. Duty.

The Montvieux crest.

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