Page 25 of The Darkest Oath

“Will I live with you?” she asked, steadying her other hand against his chest.

His face pained. “I don’t know. Tensions are high, and all military men must be in the service or risk treason.” He cleared his throat to signal what the penalty was for treason. “I will be gone most of the time, and I may not come back alive.”

Her heart crumbled at hearing she would be alone, and Rollant might be dead. She shook her head back and forth, the pain bouncing between her temples.

“I can’t do it.” Both hands shot to her head, leaving her body unsteady on her feet. He caught her again with one hand to steady her against his chest. “I’ve never been on my own before,” she whimpered.

His lips brushed the top of her ear. “I think you have always been on your own,” he whispered. “You just didn’t know it.”

Her knees buckled from exhaustion, and he caught her under the arm, swung her weak frame into his embrace, and then studied her face with an intensity she had never seen.

“Why do you stare at me? Is beauty fleeting?” Her head rolled to his shoulder. “I’m so tired, Rollant.”

“Can you breathe?” he asked in a timid whisper.

She took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said softly.

He visibly swallowed and nodded. “Good. Where is your bed? I’ll take you to it.”

“I can’t. I have to work, and Gabin is out at the brothel.”

Rollant’s face fell slack. “Gabin is at a brothel, while you work here at the brink of death?”

Her lips drew thin, teeth bared in defiance. “But he feeds me.”

“Not well enough,” he said. His grip hardened on her flesh. “Do you want another life, Élise? One without me in it but one out of this?”

She might have answered the question differently had she had water or food to think clearly. She shook her head. “This is all I know.” Leaving meant freedom, but it also meant facing Gabin’s wrath—a wrath that would not stop at bruises. She couldn’t disappear, not yet. Not without knowing the streets better, not without knowing who to trust. She had to have a plan, and she had none.

“Say the word Élise, and I will have you a new life,” he said, his whispered words fluttering the frizzed strands of hair by her ear. He started for the door, but she held on to his shirt.

“No,” she whispered. Leaving seemed as impossible as staying, a life where each day blurred into the next, where survival outweighed freedom. Further, if she escaped, Gabin would indeed find her and make her life even more unbearable, and she doubted he would do her the good service of killing her quickly. The fact she couldn’t imagine life without Gabin or Rollant made her feel weak and insignificant, not worthy of Rollant’s time or coin. She had to find the independence and freedom she rallied behind without either man, but the path to that reality was lost on her. In frustration, she gnashed at Rollant.

“Leave me here. Live your life. Forget me.” She wanted to be angry at him for leaving, but he was only guilty of trying to help. The bitterness in her words was not directed towards him, but towards herself. In her most significant moment of weakness, she found she was a woman of hollow ambitions, tied to a life she knew, a life she had become a shadow within. She didn’t know how to leave—hadn’t the courage or the strength.

“Élise.” Rollant’s voice dropped and filled with pleading. “I made a promise to remember you always. I cannot forget you. You are my friend, Élise. I cannot watch you suffer.”

“Then leave.” She swatted his arm and stared unfocused at the ceiling. “It’s what you are good at.”

He had left her there. She blamed him, but she didn’t. Fear rooted her in a pathetic life. “Now, now, before someone sees you,” she groaned and kicked her legs to force him to let her down.

Her words were slurred. Each time she blinked, her vision blurred. The shadows crowded her sight as if the world was darkening. Her heart beat too fast and yet too slow. She still had so much to do. Upon uneasy legs, she tried to make her way to the counter but slumped, and her knees almost hit the floor. Rollant’s arms were quick to wrap around her and hoist her up.

“You are in no shape to work, Élise.” His hand gingerly cupped her face. “You need rest.”

She half-laughed. “Rest shall never be mine,” she muttered and regained the strength to stand, knocking his arms off of her. Her life wasn’t horrible before Rollant, but it had become unbearable. She only imagined what it would be like after this second encounter.

Her feet carried her to the bread counter. She began pulling the dough again, but her arms shook from fatigue. Rollant stepped behind her and slid his hands down her arms, calming the ache. He was warm and grounding. His fingers interlaced with hers, lingering a second longer than he should have and anchoring her trembling hands. His words were low and almost lost to the sound of the streets just beyond the door.

“This will not be forever, Élise, I promise,” he spoke a quiet oath.

At his assurance, she leaned her head back into his chest and gave up her will to stand. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to a nearby chair in the corner by the fire.

The next thing she knew, warm water was at her lips, and she drank freely. Then, warm bread. At first, she refused, muttering, “Gabin will not like me eating his bread.”

Rollant’s soothing response allowed her to eat. “I paid for it.”

Soon, it was gone, and through her eye slits, she observed Rollant snatch Gabin’s apron from the wall and take up the dough she’d abandoned. Her eyes closed fully, and for the first time, she believed, even briefly, that true rest was within reach. She only had to be brave enough to take it.

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