Page 73 of The Darkest Oath

His shoulders rose and left her question unanswered. Deception flashed in his eyes.

She had him; she had caught him in a lie. What was he hiding from her?

“As I said, I’m not supposed to be here.” He gathered the empty plates in a clatter. “Promise me, you’ll stay out of the city.” His back was to her as he walked to the counter to wash the dishes.

“I can’t make that promise,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. More secrets he refused to tell. More deflection.

“Shots have been fired, Élise. Men have been killed. It will never be the same. If the crown is abolished, tyranny will rule until stability sets in. Please stay out of the city; stay safe.”

He threw the plates down. Droplets flung from their edges. He spun around. “Please do not speak to anyone about your beliefs, especially in this turmoil; you don’t know which side will win and what enemies you may make.”

“We already won,” she said. “Remember yesterday at the Bastille?”

He shook his head. “You won the first fight, and if they happen to abolish the crown, a new king of sorts will rule and kill anyone who threatens his reign.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “We all want the same thing: freedom from hunger.”

“What if Gabin is given a prominent position in the new order? Do you think he will let you live just because you have the same ideals?”

She could feel the crack of Gabin’s fists strike her jaw, reliving his abuse. It froze her belly, and she pulled her arms tighter across her chest, as Rollant continued speaking.

“And if the king somehow takes back his authority and re-establishes his regime, you will be tried and executed for treason,” he said, again stepping closer to her. “No matter who wins, there will be so much death, so much blood. I have seen it!”

She let out a frustrated sigh. He was trying to scare her, to control her without bruises. “Where have you seen all of this wisdom play out, Rollant? In the Americas? We are the French. It is different here.”

He shook his head. “Do you remember King Henry III? War between Catholics and Protestants left millions dead. It is no different now: Catholic versus Protestant or Royalist versus Revolutionist.”

Élise squinted her eyes in defiance and dug in her heels. “If you are not for us, you are against us.”

“That is not true,” he said.

“You speak of treason against the revolution.”

“Élise, stop.” He approached her with pleading eyes.

“I trusted you. I cared for you. I loved you.” She backed away. Her voice faltered. “But all you do is keep lying to me.”

His hands found her shoulders, his grip firm but gentle. “I am trying to show you the danger of your path. Can’t you see that?” he asked. “I don’t want to see you hurt again, but it is your life, Élise. I have no claim to it.”

Her heart warred with her mind. She didn’t want to see his face twisted with worry, but she couldn’t let him control her, even if through pleading and not force. She shoved his hands off. “You want to keep me safe, but I’m willing to die for this. You are not!”

His eyes narrowed as he shouted, “I would give anything to d—” His voice trailed off. His hands balled into fists. He rubbed his forehead and swallowed hard. With his tone much softer, he said, “You don’t know what you’re saying, Élise.”

Her temper got the best of her. She could have asked another question to allow him to open up to her, but instead, she spat, “I know what I’m saying. How dare you tell me I am ignorant of fighting because of a struggling life you clearly have never lived?”

“It’s not about that.” He looked up at her. His fist bounced on his thigh as if he debated the unsaid.

“Then what is it?” She stepped closer, catching the slight tremble in his hands and the way his gaze darted away. What was he so afraid of? Maybe he wanted to tell her his secrets. Maybe she just had to ask again. “I deserve the truth, Rollant, don’t I? Who are you, and why do you care what I do if you’re never here?”

“Because, Élise, I . . .” His voice wavered, his hands flexing at his sides. A flicker of pain crossed his eyes—hesitation, fear. “Some truths,” he finally murmured, gaze dropping to his hands as though they carried the weight of centuries, “are crueler than silence.”

He wasn’t making any sense.

“I don’t care if it’s cruel; give me the truth.” She jabbed a soft finger into his chest.

Rollant scoffed and shook his head. “Everything I love about you is frustrating me in this moment.”

She blinked a few times to process what he said. “You love me, or you love qualities about me?” She tightened her arms across her chest in case he again rejected her.

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