Page 98 of The Darkest Oath

If Rollant was gone—if he was truly gone—then wasn’t it time to move on? To stop clinging to the ashes of a love that had burned so brightly it had consumed her?

Hugo was here.

Hugo was real.

Yet, her hand trembled as she forced a smile and nodded.

Both eyebrows lifted high over his wide eyes. “Really?” he chuckled. “Really?”

The broad smile on his face was contagious. She laughed, too, and nodded more at his excitement.

He slid the ring onto her finger—a fit nearly too loose, but it stayed without further adjustment. It was everything he was—solid, simple, and made with care. He picked her up and swung her around, but as he pulled her close, his smile faltered for the briefest moment. It was gone in an instant, replaced by laughter, but Élise felt it—a hesitation, a question he didn’t dare ask.

“You are going to be my wife, and I couldn’t be happier,” he shouted. Giselle and Gabrielle slung the bedroom door open and rushed to them with peals of glee.

Élise kept the smile plastered and laughed with Giselle and Gabrielle as they hugged her tightly.

Giselle squealed, clasping her hands over her chest. “We are going to have another sister!”

Her heart beat faster, and the room spun.

Gabrielle grabbed Élise’s hands, squeezing them. “Oh, you could have a Christmas wedding!” she shrieked with eyes full of excitement.

The sisters’ joy was a stark reminder of what was expected—what she had chosen. She forced a smile, hoping they couldn’t see the cracks.

But Christmas was only two months away. Her ears rang, and the edges of her vision blurred.

Hugo pulled Élise in for a chaste kiss. “With the snow and the fire?—”

“No,” Élise said quickly, silencing and stilling the room. “I—I don’t like the cold,” she said, offering no other timeframe.

“Oh,” Hugo said and bit his lip. “Well, how about the summer?” he asked.

She wanted to say, “Or next,” but refrained and said instead, “That sounds wonderful. A summer wedding would be perfect.” She swallowed hard behind a wide smile.

Hugo, Élise, and his sisters visited each house to announce their marriage promise. Each community member’s face lit with elation at the news.

Night fell, and Élise barred the door of her Charonne home, shutting out the community’s happiness. Though the smell of bread graced the house, she had no appetite. The basket of herbs lay on the table; the task of putting them away would wait until the morning. Again, she felt alone.

Isolated.

She should have readied the home for the night with happiness in her heart, but the numbing cold prevented any happiness from growing there. The bedroom hearth crackled, and the door closed for the night to keep the bedroom warm.

She slipped the ring from her finger and placed it on the nightstand with deliberate care as though setting down the weight of the decision she couldn’t carry. Her fingers quivered as they traced the carved surface, its simplicity reflecting the quiet life Hugo promised. It was beautiful in its own way, but the smooth wood felt cool against her skin. Her hand drifted to Rollant’s shirt, neatly folded on the bed. She pulled it over her head, the worn fabric falling loose and familiar against her skin. The faint scent of old wood and candle smoke still lingered, a memory of him that refused to fade and instead clung to her twisting heart. She curled beneath the blankets, clutching the shirt as if it could bring him back.

Her tears slipped silently down her cheeks at first, but soon turned to heaving sobs that wracked her chest. Why had she called him a monster? Why had she told him to leave and never return?

Waves rippled down her back, shaking her body until exhaustion claimed her, and when sleep finally came, she dreamed of Rollant.

CHAPTER37

The Silence of Mercy

THE TEMPLE, PARIS, JANUARY 1793

The Commune institutedthe new National Convention, which stripped Louis of his title and renamed him Citizen Louis Capet. Madame and Monsieur were gone, replaced by Citizen and Citizeness. To the Convention, all were equal—except for the king, who had been reduced to a criminal awaiting his sentence.

Rollant stood silent among the guards at the Temple as they jeered at the former royal family, their laughter echoing through the cold stone halls. Graffiti marred the walls of Louis’ chambers, depicting him hanging from the gallows—a sight his children should never have seen.

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