Page 118 of The Darkest Oath

His resolve shattered.

He let himself feel her lips against his, the warmth, the desperate certainty in how she held him. But as quickly as he gave in, he pulled back, his hands gripping her arms to put space between them.

“Why?” His breath came unevenly. “Why would you live here?”

Élise cupped his face, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “You told me to see what my life would be like with you,” she said softly. “So I did.”

His brow furrowed.

“I thought—what better way to understand than to live as Amée did? To see, to feel, to know.” Her fingers tightened against his jaw. “And I found clarity here, Rollant. I want to be your wife. Forever.”

His chest tightened.

“I meant for you to see the graves,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That is where you will end up. A name carved in stone. An empty plot beside you.” His throat burned. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

His stomach dropped.

“I will never be able to hold you, Élise. Never. I will never wrap my arms around you. I will stay as this, and you will age and die.” He searched her face, willing her to see the life she was throwing away. “Is that truly what you want?”

Her gaze did not waver. “You have my heart, Rollant. That is all that matters.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

“I ask only this,” she continued, her voice filled with raw vulnerability. “When I die, lay me beside Amée with an inscription just as beautiful as hers. And when you have forgotten my face, I hope you find another love and do the same for her. And the next. And the next.” She swallowed hard. “Because life is nothing without love, Rollant. Until I met you, I never truly believed that.”

His fingers curled into fists.

“Life is nothing without death, too,” he said, a tremor in his voice. “Do not be disillusioned with love.”

“I am not disillusioned.” She stepped closer. “You have always given me a choice. Since the day we met, you let me find my own fate and make my own decisions, and you supported each one. Why won’t you support this one?”

“To make it easier for both of us,” he bit out the lie to save her from a life with him. “You should find someone else.”

“No!” Her voice rose, desperate, determined. “Let me choose, Rollant! And please, honor my choice.” Her breath shuddered as she exhaled. “I choose a life with you—even if I never feel your embrace. Even though I will age and you will not.” She lifted her chin. “I choose you. Just as Amée did.”

His heart slammed against his ribs.

“She only chose me because she was already my wife,” he argued, his voice raw. “She had taken vows when I was mortal. If she had known the truth before?—”

“She still would have chosen you,” Élise cut in.

She stepped away, walking to Amée’s grave. With a quiet reverence, she pressed her palm against the cold stone.

“If you loved her as you love me,” she whispered, “then she loved you as I do now. And she chose you for the same reason I am choosing you. As I stand over her grave, there is no doubt in my mind.” Her gaze flicked up, her eyes blazing. “Because life without you is not a life I want.”

Rollant’s breath hitched.

He had laid it all bare—his curse, his pain, his unworthiness—and yet she still chose him. She still wanted him.

His head fell forward, his hands gripping his hips, as if trying to steady himself beneath the weight of her decision.

“I want you to know love, Rollant,” she continued, her voice softer now. “Please, do not go back to your wretched existence, hiding yourself away, doomed to live forever alone.” She stood and stepped closer. “Live forever, you will. But make your lifetimes good, Rollant. Fill them with joy. Fill them with love.” Her voice caught. “And I will be honored to be part of one of them, as Amée was. Her heart was always yours, and so is mine.”

She lifted a hand to his chest, and he grasped it before she could press her palm against his heart.

“I fear I will take your life, Élise,” he admitted. His voice was rough, pleading. “With Amée, I could never enter my home, or I would kill them both—her and Cateline. We never slept beneath the same roof for forty years.” His breathing was shallow. “If you stay with me, I want you in my arms. I want to hold you.” His hand trembled against hers. “I fear waking to find you?—”

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