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“She’d be stuck There. And I…” His voice left him for a humiliating moment. “I’ll not see her fade away, lost to life, solely because of me.” Adam blinked down at the rough, worn edges of Lucien’s table. “I’m giving her up. Because I love her.”
The distant clank of a ship’s bell drifted over the room, and Lucien sighed, as he moved to the sideboard and poured them both a glass of claret. Adam accepted it with a numb hand and then drank it down in one gulp. He’d have preferred whisky, but suspected Lucien was still cross enough with him not to have offered it.
Lucien sat across from him and took a sip of wine.
“You want to know the worst of it?” Adam murmured.
“Oh, there’s more?”
Adam glared but then his shoulders sagged, and he rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m tempted to choose her.” So very badly.
“It shames you that you’d prefer love and happiness over holding up the lives of thousands.” Lucien shrugged again. “And here I thought this is what makes you so very human. For once.”
A snort left Adam, and he slumped in his chair, pressing his fingers to his eyes. “All too soon, I’ll be as far from human as one can get, my friend.” And he’d have an eternity to remember Eliza.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Adam left London on a sun-filled day. No rain for him, only clear skies and that rare and lovely weather that made Londoners flock to the outdoors. Cursing the weather, and heavy of heart, Adam moved away from the hot sunshine and stepped into the shadows provided by a large elm tree. Across the lane, Eliza sat in the window seat of Mab’s grand house. Lucien had told him that Mab’s possessions would go to Eliza. Good.
Adam had left all his worldly goods to Eliza at any rate. He’d amassed a king’s fortune several times over, and he wanted her to have it. He would not be returning to London. He wouldn’t be able to stand it, not when he knew she’d be here, within reach but never obtainable.
Under his collar, his clock rested against his skin. Eliza had taken it off just before they’d parted, her expression void of any emotion. I no longer need to keep this safe. It is yours once more. And it had felt as though she’d torn his heart out all over again. But he’d said nothing, nor protested when she walked away.
The clock ticked a steady rhythm, power flowing through it and into him. Once more, he felt each and every soul he’d saved as if they surrounded him. With stiff movements, he pressed his hand to his chest. He’d literally experienced having his heart ripped out, and yet this was worse. Physical pain eventually ended, the lights dimmed, and the mind shut off. Enduring without happiness or hope, that was the true hell. And his happiness sat across the way. She lived, and he would hold that thought close to him. She’d live a full and adventurous life, just as she’d dreamed of doing.
Behind the window, Eliza stared out onto the street. She could not see him now; he was invisible to the living. Even so, he hid in the shadows, afraid that she might catch a glimpse of his spirit. If he stopped to say good-bye or explain himself, he would never leave.
Logically, Adam understood that he ought to lay the choice at her feet. But everything in him protested at asking her to leave this world. For centuries he’d wanted nothing more than to be a normal man once more. He would not, could not, offer her anything less than a normal life.
Eliza stirred, sunlight gleaming in her hair and caressing the curve of her cheek. A lump rose hard in Adam’s throat, choking him. And he turned away, unable to look upon her a moment longer. It took but a thought and the black door to his own personal hell opened up before him. Adam stepped into it without looking back.
He’d left without saying good-bye. It ought to have hurt the most, this slight, but it did not. No, Eliza was far more hurt by the simple fact that Adam had left her. The when and how of it meant little in the face of that rejection.
Alone, she sat, as she’d done every day for the past few months, in the window seat of Mab’s house. Her house now.
Shortly after Adam had disappeared from Lucien’s barge, from this world entirely, a solicitor came to visit Eliza. A fae solicitor as it turned out. The little man, dressed in a velvet suit of forest green, had given her a neat bow and introduced himself as Mr. Marcus. Combined with his bright red hair and smattering of freckles across his nose, he bore an unfortunate resemblance to one of those cartoon leprechauns that merchants liked to paste up in their shops come St. Patrick’s Day. Or they did in Boston. Eliza did not know if anyone celebrated here in London.
“I did not realize that fae occupied such professions,” Eliza had mused.
“I can’t see why not,” Mr. Marcus had said sensibly. “We’ve claims and courts just like any other.”
Well then.
And it turned out that she now owned all of Mab’s estate. Eliza was also the most natural candidate to take over the throne. “However,” Mr. Marcus went on to explain, “should you not take up the claim, there are many others most willing to do so.”
Eliza could just bet. “Let them at it, Mr. Marcus. I’m of this world, and here is where I intend to say.” Eliza might have gone to Adam’s domain, if he’d but asked. No. She would not think of that.
And so she took up Mab’s estate, despite the fact that the house felt repugnant to her. For where else was she to go? She might stay with Daisy, or one of her sisters, Poppy or Miranda, who were also Eliza’s distant cousins. And Holly Evernight had extended an offer as well. But all of them had families, husbands who loved them. And Eliza was in no mood to live amongst marital bliss, thank you very much.
