Page 20 of The Darkest Oath

“Again, it is too much,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“No, as I said, it is not enough.” His fingers traced hers before gesturing toward their final destination. They walked intoAu Pain Rouxside by side.

Gabin marched up to her and yanked her behind him as he shouted in Rollant’s face. “She is mine! You’ll leave her alone, you sea maggot.”

Rollant’s muscles tensed beneath his coat at the way Gabin handled Élise. He wanted to tear her away from him, take her away, and let her live her life free from his abuse. But he couldn’t ensure her safety after he returned to the palace. At the resolve, he quelled the rage into an expressionless façade of his usual outward nonchalance.

“Monsieur Roux?” Rollant asked with eyes as cool as steel, his calm starkly contrasting to Gabin’s rage.

Gabin shoved him, but Rollant barely budged. “Monsieur Roux, thank you for your apprentice’s time helping me find medical supplies for my return to port in the morning. She was the only face I knew in all the surrounding districts. No one else had talked much to me.” Rollant’s calm, deep voice diffused Gabin’s anger.

Gabin stood upright, his breath steadied.

“You are to return to port?” he asked, dusting the flour off his shirt and into Rollant’s face.

“Yes.” Rollant held a coin out for Gabin to take. “She was hesitant to help me, but she is a kind soul and agreed after I said I would reimburse her patron for any of her time you lost this day.”

Gabin swiped it out of Rollant’s hand and peered back at Élise before sizing Rollant up. “I’m glad she was of use to you. Now be gone. Good luck at sea. And should you need my apprentice’s time again, you come and ask me first.”

Rollant nodded, wishing to give the man a public beating and bring to light how he had treated Élise. “Of course. My error. Have a good meeting this evening. I hope it is as riveting as the last.”

Rollant backed out of the entrance and left. He glanced through the window and found Élise’s eyes one last time before he disappeared down the Rue de Charonne. The oil lamp light caught her gaze and on the loose strands of her hair. It would be the keepsake he would take with him. It was only one day in an eternity, but perhaps Élise would have the right to live alongside Amée in his memory, not as a love but of what could have been.

CHAPTER8

The Price of Freedom

FAUBOURG SAINT-ANTOINE, PARIS, MARCH 1788

Gabin backed Élise into a corner.“You left with him?” he sneered.

“He offered coin, Gabin,” she said, pleading with her eyes. “We haven’t had coin in a long time. Everything has been through barter. I—I thought you would be proud of me. All I did was show him where to find bandages and ointments.” She doubted his approval would follow but hoped it would cushion his blow.

He raised his hand, and she flinched at the pending hit. But at the sound of footsteps, he clamped his hand around her jaw and squeezed instead. “What if he was an informant, Élise? You could have endangered us all.”

Her head shook back and forth in his grip while her mind raced through every exchange with Rollant, searching for hints of danger, but there were none. Gabin was wrong, yet he always made her believe she was.

Those who had gathered glanced away or watched with cold indifference.

“I wouldn’t have—” she began.

“You are a stupid little dove. Now go upstairs and wash his grime off of you. Don’t bother joining us tonight. You’ll have to pull a double shift in the morning.” He shoved her head back, smashing her body into the corner. The evil sneer of jealousy burned green in his hazel eyes. There would be no talking sense to him.

She squirmed from the corner and headed for the stairs, unable to meet any of the gathering crowd’s eyes for fear of feeding rumors or the lies Gabin would tell them about her and the newcomer. He had a reputation to regain after the last meeting. She hoped it went well, for maybe she wouldn’t have to endure such a harsh beating that night.

Her feet pounded the stairs. She slammed the door behind her and immediately regretted it. Gabin would remember that and give her due punishment. She had to tread lightly and keep her mouth shut to minimize the bruises.

She fell into the bed in the cramped room that reflected her limited existence. Her knees curled to her chest, and tears ran freely down her cheeks.

“Curse this day,” she rasped. She had been a fool. Hope was a luxury she couldn’t afford, making every day harder to survive. She had allowed Rollant to invade her thoughts against her better judgment. He would leave her like everyone else except Gabin. Rollant would never return. He was a fire that would never warm her, yet she had reached out and burned herself. Her cold life felt even colder against the memory of his kindness. She had no one to blame but herself.

Yet, it was too much of a burden to bear on her own.

She did not believe in God, yet in her despair, she cried to him in a hushed whimper. “Why did you let him come here, of all places? Of all the places in Paris. Do youhateme?” Her tears burned the back of her throat.

“It would have been better if I had never met him.” The day flashed through her mind: he listened to her, answered all her questions, was kind and gentle, was restrained, fed her without expectation, gave her coin to help her with a future she may never have. Her heart ached at what Rollant represented.

“He won’t be back. Why would he come back?” She smudged her tears against the moist flesh of her cheek. “I can’t live this life knowing there could be something more.”

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