Page 84

When I headed for the stairs down, he led me away and up the stairs to a bedroom I'd yet to see. Birds flew from tree to tree in the blue chinoiserie wallpaper, dark blue Persian rugs covered the hardwood, and the bed looked like a sanctuary. It felt more cheerful than downstairs, and I was glad he'd finally brought me up.

Once we were in the room, I took over and led him to the adjoining bathroom. Comfort filled this space too, from the heated tile floor to the thick robe on its free-standing hanger. I turned on the shower, let the water heat, then helped him out of his ruined shirt. The fabric stuck to his skin in places where blood had dried. He didn't flinch when I peeled it away, but I did.

“I'll be downstairs,” I said.

“Stay.” His voice was hoarse. “Please.”

So, I sat on the edge of the tub while he showered, watching steam curl against the glass. When he finally stepped out, I handed him a towel and waited while he dried off. After replacing the towel, he took my hand, and brought me out to the bedroom. I sat in a deep blue leather chair by the window, and waited as he pulled on a pair of soft gray pants and a white t-shirt that made him look younger, vulnerable.

Taking my hand again, Tristan led me back downstairs, touching his things as we passed them—the edge of a table, the fringe trim on an Oriental lamp, the gilt frame of a painting. After a detour in the kitchen, we ended up with mugs of tea on the upstairs living room couch.

“Fabian's grief twisted him,” I whispered.

“Because of me.”

“No, because of him. Heartbreak didn't make his parents ignore his sister. It shed a light on their buried pain and gave them the option to let it destroy them or move beyond it. They let it destroy them and their daughter. You would never have done that. Even consumed with Heartbreak, you thought of me first. They were selfish and let their daughter die, but you were the easier scapegoat. So, Fabian focused on you. Maybe he felt guilty for not checking on his sister sooner in the middle of a plague. I mean, wouldn't you have gone to your family right away? All he had to do was step outside the monastery gates. But he didn't. He stayed safe inside the walls and waited until it was too late.”

Tristan frowned into his tea.

“Who knows what he did or felt?” I shrugged. “But to let it consume him to the point where he extended his life just to make you suffer, is insanity. He bore witness to all you endured and still couldn't forgive you. Instead, he dug deeper into his hate.”

“He didn't forgive me. Not even at the end.”

“That's what I'm saying. He never would have forgiven you. No matter what you did or said. He was set on his course—a perfect example of why Heartbreak is necessary.”

“What?” Tristan jerked back, sloshing his tea.

“If Heartbreak had touched Fabian, he would have been given the same chance as his parents. He might have confronted the truth about the situation. But instead, he wallowed in his hatred of you, never accepting the pain of his sister's death or his parents' betrayal. And after centuries of stewing in it, he became a monster.”

Lips trying to form words, Tristan shook his head. “I'm the—”

“Don't you dare!” I took his mug and set it on the coffee table with mine. “He was a monster. Osric is a monster. You are not. You could never be.”

“You are blinded by love.”

I snorted, earning a glare from him. “Blinded? So, I imagined you drawing Heartbreak away from the man who has persecuted you? You didn't draw it into you, despite the pain of accepting it in its furious state? You certainly didn't beg his forgiveness for things you didn't do. You're right; you're a monster, and a monster would never do those things.”

His head lowered and a frown creased his brow. It would take time to change his perceptions of himself, but I intended to be there to make sure he did.

I picked up my tea and cradled it between my hands. The warmth seeped into my palms. “You're allowed to grieve him. Even after everything he did. Just don't let him haunt you. Don't let him play with your heart.”

“We were friends so long ago. He betrayed me then and he betrayed me now. He would have hurt you just to hurt me. I don't mourn him. I'm glad he's dead. But I mourn his innocent sister. I mourn the life they could have lived together. Fabian, he . . . holding him as he died, it was like I was holding every person I've ever hurt. If they all knew what I'd done, they'd feel the same as Fabian.”

“I don't believe that. I think a great number of them would thank Heartbreak, and the rest would know it was their decisions that brought them pain, not yours. Even if they needed someone to blame, I believe most would blame Heartbreak. Even Fabian knew that. He knew the pain hadn't come from you. If he hadn't known, he wouldn't have tried to put Heartbreak in me.”

“That's exactly why he tried.”

“No, he tried to move Heartbreak because he thought he could control it through me, that I'd be easier to keep locked away. Heartbreak isn't a gun you aim at people. It seeks them out. It pulls you to them. Fabian knew that, but he wanted you to suffer because he couldn't hurt Heartbreak.”

“I . . . but, I'm the one—”

I set my mug down and the click of it hitting the table startled him into silence. “Enough, Tristan! If you want to talk about your pain or how hard it is to bear Heartbreak, I'm here for you. But I'm so fucking tired of hearing you whine about being responsible for Heartbreak. Enough! You are its vessel, not its master. If you continue this behavior after all the proof I've given you, you're not the man I thought you were.”

Tristan's expression went cold. He stood up and walked to the window, his back rigid. “You're tired? You're tired of hearing me whine?”

The shift in his tone made my stomach drop. “Tristan—”

“You've known me for weeks, Destiny. Weeks. I've carried this for seventeen hundred years.” He turned, and the look on his face was something I'd never seen before—raw, furious, and broken all at once. “You have no idea what it's like. You absorb a little pain here and there, feel some sadness, and you think you understand? You think a few empathic episodes give you the right to tell me how I should feel about my Curse?”