He glanced away for a breath, the way he always did when emotion threatened to rise, then back.
“I thought I needed a flawless bride, one who looked the part. Then, you came into my life. Face veiled. Gait uneven. And I—” His mouth twisted. “I saw only what I’d taught myself to see: a woman who didn’t fit the mould.”
His voice turned rough, low. “But I waswrong. You healed more than the sick. You healed what I had let rot. You helped me uncover what Bertrand was hiding. You risked yourself again and again. You brought pride back to Wulfbane’s name. You saved this House, and you saved . . .me.”
Then, softer, almost a whisper: “Everything beautiful that’s happened to me began the moment you walked into my life.”
Her chest caved. It was a physical pain, a beautiful, brutal dream offered in the palm of his hand. All she had to do was close her fingers around it. She knew he meant every word. She had felt the truth of them in the dark last night, in the shelter of his arms where she had finally, completely, fallen apart.
But, no matter what happened, it couldn’t change the fact that this marriage had been brokered by a king and a prince for their own gains. King Ferdinand had used her presence to seal Adelise’s engagement, to ally Tremore with Xûen-Sarai.
ShunLi had sent her here for his own agenda, too.
And Alexander—dutiful, principled Alexander—had no choice but to play his part. What else could he do other than accept his king’s edict, when the weight of his crumbling House and his sister’s future rested solely on his shoulders?
She swallowed. No one could change the past. Theirs was a tainted marriage, and what she felt for him—this love that bloomed anyway amid the bruises—wasn’t enough to rewrite how this had begun.
And the best she could do right now was release them both.
“I’ve known, for some time,” she said, her voice calm, “that I will return to Xûen-Sarai.”
She watched him closely. No surprise, no plea. Only a faint tightening of his jaw, a flicker in his gaze, quickly mastered.
“There are pieces of me I left buried. Things I ran from. I need to go back to find out who I am when I’m not a solution to someone else’s problem, or a token in someone else’s treaty.”
She paused, the memory of the previous night—the dissolution of her fortress, the terrifying safety of his hold—giving her the courage for the final, cutting truth.
“You would have kept your vows. You would have given me a good life.” Her vision blurred. “Last night, you saw me, truly saw me, and it was the most terrifying and beautiful thing I have ever known. But it also showed me the truth. You have fought for everything you have. I cannot be the one thing in your life you never got to choose for yourself.”
She took a shuddering breath, feeling the phantom pressure of his brow against her collarbone.
“You deserve a clean beginning. And”—her voice broke—“so do I.”
He looked back with an expression of profound, solemn respect—and beneath it, something turbulent and unspoken, banked like a fire under iron control. He heard her. He understood her, perhaps better than anyone ever had. And because he understood, because he respected the self she was fighting to become, he did not oppose her.
When he spoke, his voice was low, carved from a place of absolute, heartbreaking certainty. “I cannot agree more.”
The wind caught her sleeves, a cold caress where his touch had been. She stilled. His words were perfect. A release. A benediction. The final, graceful act of a lord honouring an ally’s request.
He was letting her go. Exactly as she’d asked.
She curtsied and dipped her head, the gesture formal, final. “I’ll speak to King Ferdinand. I’m sure the annulment can be arranged without too much of a fuss.”
Then, she turned. The wind caught her sleeves, cold where his warmth had been. She walked. One step. Two. Her chest ached with the effort of not looking back.
This is what you wanted,she reminded herself.Space. Room to grow. A clean beginning.
Then why did it feel like she was leaving part of herself behind?
Three steps. Four. The garden path stretched ahead, empty and endless. She could feel him behind her—still there, watching.
Five steps. She almost stopped. Almost turned. Almost ran back to the safety of his arms.
But she kept walking.
And he let her go.
CHAPTER 61
