“Or maybe it’s revenge disguised as reconciliation. He might never forgive you, no matter how much you suffer.” Betje caught her hands, stilling them. “Do you think he was serious, or did he speak from anger? Does he really want to be tied to you forever? Do you want to be tied to him?”
“I never stopped wanting that.” It was the only thing that kept her going through all the years of rejection and scorn from both humans and gargoyles alike.
“That’s not what I asked.” Betje’s forehead creased with concern, her auburn coils quivering. “Can you endure a lifetime beside someone who constantly pushes you away? Who might never forgive you? Who wants you to hurt? It would drive me mad.”
Idabel pulled free, returning to her cleaning. It felt good to scrub the stone until it was smooth. “I’ve lived long enough without him to know what that’s like. At least with a bond, I’d have something. Even if it’s just shared misery.”
“You deserve better—”
“I deserve worse.” The words came out sharp, and she bit them back. Betje wasn’t to blame for the situation. She had been nothing but supportive. “I made my choices. Now I face the consequences. The least I can do is stand by him and help him heal.”
“And if his mind never heals? If you’re locked forever to someone who’s been completely shattered by war?”
“Then I’ll be shattered too.” She met Betje’s eyes. “Maybe that’s how we fit together now, in pieces.”
Betje sighed. “You’ve already decided to do it.”
“I decided the moment he asked.” Idabel gathered the bottles, packing them carefully. “I’ll take whatever pieces of him I can have.” Jagged edges and all.
That evening, she climbed to the fifth tier with steady steps despite her racing heart. The door wasn’t locked, and inside, the eyrie was dark and quiet except for candlelight from Brandt’s nesting chamber.
The silence made her uneasy. Rooms her son inhabited were never silent.
“Loïc?” she called. Ghantal should have brought him home from flying lessons by now. It stung to think that this was home now and not with her.
“He’s staying with my mother for a few hours. I’ve arranged for her to take the eyrie next door.” Brandt emerged from the shadows, and his expression made her step back. “We are alone.”
“Oh.”
He crossed to her, backing her against the door. “Second thoughts, Idabel?”
“No.” The word came out breathless with anticipation. “This is what I want.”
What I need.The only route to absolution. Please, give it to me.
“This won’t be like before.” His hand wrapped around her throat, gentle but possessive. “No tenderness. No sweet words.”
“I know.” She closed her eyes and pushed her fear down into her belly, where it slowly warmed her core, transforming into a sick excitement.
He leaned close, breath hot against her ear. “You’ll feel everything I feel. The walls in my mind will trap you in narrower and narrower passages. Memories will fracture and disintegrate right in front of you. You’ll experience every moment of rage and confusion and loss that I do.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” The question seemed torn from him. “Why would you accept this?”
“Because I love you.” There was no point in pretending otherwise, not when he’d be able to rummage through her thoughts in a few minutes. “Because our son deserves parents who are connected, even if that connection is painful. Because living without our bond is worse than sharing your suffering.”
He made a sound that might have been laugh or sob as he buried his face in her hair. “I’m trying to hate you, Idabel, but you make it so hard.”
“I’m sorry.” This time, she didn’t mean it.
“I’ll never forgive you.”
“I know.”
“It might make me hate you more to see inside your mind.”
“I know that, too.”
