Page 104 of The Darkest Oath

Inside the band, barely visible, the engraving read:À jamais—forever.

It was not a promise nor a plea but a truth he had long accepted. The ring would ensure her survival and grant her safe passage on his haunted estate in the Chartreuse mountains. And there, if she ever crossed the threshold, she would find all the proof of his past, every secret he had ever dared to share with her.

But perhaps she would never need it. Perhaps she would heed his request, forget him, marry Hugo, and live a quiet life unburdened by his cursed existence.

The thought settled like lead in his chest.

The jeweler wrapped the ring in a soft cloth and handed it to his customer. Rollant hesitated before slipping it into his coat pocket. He would place it in her hand if the day came she needed it.

But if fate were kind, she would never wear it at all.

CHAPTER39

A Truth to Keep

CHARONNE, PARIS, JUNE 1793

Winter turned to spring,and Élise tried to bury the memory of that January morning in Paris when Rollant had walked back into her life. But it refused to be buried. She had returned to Charonne, Hugo, and the comforting routines of village life, yet her thoughts drifted to Rollant in moments of stillness. His whispered words, his tortured gaze—it all lingered like a haunting refrain. And now, with her wedding only weeks away, she could no longer silence the question she had tried so desperately to ignore: Would her love for Rollant ever fade?

The scent of lavender drifted through the home’s open windows as Élise sat at the table, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She could hear the sounds of the community preparing for the wedding—Giselle’s voice carrying orders to the children gathering flowers, Gabrielle laughing with the neighbor women as they spoke of the celebration dinner. The village was aglow, celebrating a union that would bring joy and new life to Charonne.

But inside Élise’s chest, her heart thudded with a hollow ache.

Hugo entered quietly, brushing dirt from his hands after tending to the herb garden at his family home. His hair was damp with sweat, his face as kind as ever. He smiled when he saw her, but the light in his eyes faltered when he caught her expression.

“What is it, Élise?” he asked softly, coming to sit across from her.

She opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. She had practiced what she would say, but now, under his calm gaze, her courage faltered. “Hugo,” she began; her voice trembled. “I can’t.”

His brow furrowed. “Can’t what?”

She lowered her gaze to her lap, unable to meet his eyes. “I can’t marry you.”

Silence fell between them. Hugo’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching on the table. “Why?” he asked, though his voice betrayed that he already knew.

Her throat tightened. “After seeing Rollant?—”

“Stop.” His voice was sharp, cutting through her words. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. “I’ll always be second place, won’t I?” His voice cracked, anger and sorrow warring within him. “He’ll show up once in ten years, and you’ll throw my ring to the ground.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. It was true. She couldn’t refute it. But something told her to hold on. To wait for Rollant. “Hugo, I don’t want to feel this way. I’ve tried to love you the way you deserve, but I can’t.”

He shook his head, pacing to the window. His back was to her, his shoulders rigid with tension. “Yet he rejected you. And I’m here.” His voice softened, thick with hurt. “I’ve been here every day, Élise. Through everything.”

“I know, and that’s why it’s so absurd.” Her voice broke, yet Hugo had not been through everything. Rollant had brought her out of Paris, equipped her with a weapon, and sacrificed his home, land, life, and love for her. She turned her face away, ashamed to look at her betrothed.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Hugo. You’re kind, loyal, and generous. I love you for all those things—but not in the way a wife should love her husband.”

She hurried to wipe away her tears, but they kept falling.

Hugo blinked, pushing back tears. “He’ll never stay, Élise. You know that. He’ll leave you again, just like he always does.”

She crumpled into herself, sobbing. Hugo crossed the room in three quick strides, wrapping her in a sweeping embrace. She collapsed against his chest, clutching his shirt as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. His touch was everything Rollant’s could never be. And yet, it wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry, Hugo,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He rested his chin on her head, speaking with a low and pained voice. “Can you . . . can you ever see yourself with me, Élise? Truly?”

She shook her head helplessly. “Every time I think of our future, it’s not your face I see. It’s his.”

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