Page 79 of The Darkest Oath

She happened upon the familiar main door, entered, and walked past the pungent aroma of the shared bathroom, down the hall, and knocked on Madame Marie’s door.

The sick woman rasped, “Come in!”

Élise opened the door and smiled upon seeing her only friend left in the world.

“Élise?!” Madame Marie yelled as she struggled to sit up in bed. “Come in. Come in!” she said, gesturing to her with a wave.

Élise smiled with a brightness she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Oh, Madame, I am so happy to see you. My friend said he would give you bread while I was away, but we are no longer friends, so I had to make sure you were taken care of,” Élise said as she put her loaf and coat on the table.

One of Marie’s children dashed through the door before Élise turned to close it.

“Where is he going at this hour?” Élise asked.

Madame Marie frowned and shook her head at the click of the door. “Dear child, they never stop working. Your friend gave us much coin, which was fine until the summer. We were using it to pay for everything, but the people started threatening us for being rich. I didn’t want to endanger my family, so we had to stop. The children returned to their jobs, and the coin sits useless under my bed.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Élise said and hugged Marie, wondering why Rollant would have kept such a promise if she meant nothing to him.

“Well, I have been afraid of Gabin since I left him,” Élise said. “But I needed to know you were well. I’ll come this time every night to give you some bread or whatever I conjure up during the day.”

“No need, Élise.” Madame Marie’s gaze averted when Élise mentioned Gabin. “We are fine.” A slight tremor in her voice spoke of deception.

Élise chuckled, brushing it off. “No, your children go out to work in the evening when riots and barricades occur. You are not fine. But I am here, and I will help you. What do you need to be done?”

Madame Marie’s smile faltered. She looked down, wringing her hands. “Élise, you have to understand. We were starving,” she murmured. “I never meant for it to come to this, but—” her voice cracked—“you need to leave. Now.”

“What do you mean?”

Madame Marie grasped Élise’s wrist. “I’ve made a mistake, Élise. You are a kind soul. I merely forgot in my misery. But you need to leave now.”

“What?” Élise’s voice rose. “What do you mean?”

Madame Marie fell back onto her pillow. “Lord, forgive me,” she prayed. “Leave now, Élise, before Gabin comes.”

“Gabin?” Élise staggered backward. “Why is he coming? He—he will kill me.”

“No, he won’t, but he wants you back. He offered bread, a lot of it. We were starving, Élise,” she repeated. “I’m sorry. Go now. Don’t come back to this district. You have no friends here,” Madame Marie warned. She waved her off. “Please go.”

Élise’s heart beat out of her chest as she spun around. She grabbed her coat and ran out the door. The bakery was not that far. She flung herself through the main door, knocking into Madame Marie’s child as she exited.

“Why?” she whispered.

“You left us to die,” the child said with a hate-filled glance and entered the building with a hard slam of the door.

The ache of another betrayal nearly tore her heart apart. She pushed down the narrow road, running back to the Rue de Charonne as fast as she could. But a large frame blocked her way home. The evening sun was sinking low and fast.

“Coming home, are you Élise?” Gabin’s voice bellowed.

She stepped back and turned to run, but he caught her by the hair and pulled her back until he gripped her arm. He dragged her and threw her into the Rue de Charonne.

Pain shot through her knee as it struck the cobblestone, but it was nothing compared to the terror twisting her insides. Gabin’s grip burned like a brand, dragging her back to a nightmare she’d thought she’d escaped forever. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Become weak, have we, Élise?” Gabin asked, hissing her name. He pulled her up again by her hair and marched her back to the bakery.

In the November wind stinging the tears on her face, she realized she had lived free of Gabin’s fists for the greater part of the year. She had never seen her body without bruises until Rollant lent her his rented home in Charonne. Why had he done it? Why had he rescued her, carried her to Le Marais, and given her coin, bread, tallow, and a bath? Had it all been a ruse, as he said? Why continue treating her with such kindness? Had her march on the palace obliterated any feeling he had for her?

He was a royalist. She was a revolutionary. Maybe their paths were not meant to cross. She swallowed the lump in her throat as the harsh November winds swept past her legs. The thick wool of her coat collar fluttered against her cheek. Maybe he was just trying to run for good. Another lie meant for her benefit. But none of it mattered. Gabin was going to kill her, one way or another.

The brute shoved her in the back, forcing her to stumble into the bakery. Gabin’s heavy arm wrapped around her and squeezed as he announced to the men gathered for the night’s meeting. “Behold—my little lost dove has come back to roost!”

---