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“I forgive you,” I whispered against his lips.
He kissed me back, harder, letting his body speak for him.
Finally, we broke apart. He placed me on the couch and tucked the blanket over me. He kissed me on the cheek, a sweet gesture that surprised me. It had to be his silent way of wishing me good night.
I stared into the darkness while he lay back down on the bed roll.
After counting a hundred heartbeats, I heard his breathing settle into a gentle rhythm. Only then did I sleep.
I woke at the first light of dawn.
Wendel was gone.
On his bed roll, he had left an envelope. It contained a folded piece of paper. When I opened it, something fluttered out and landed on the carpet. A tram ticket? I frowned at it before returning to the paper.
He had written me a letter. I read it with a pounding heart.
Ardis,
This letter must be my apology, and my goodbye.
Wendel had blacked out a sentence or two. I skipped to the next legible line.
It was always too late for me to promise you anything forever. It would be cruel of me to pretend to be the man you deserve. I must face the Order of the Asphodel alone. Until they die, or I die, you will never truly be safe.
I’m sorry for hurting you.
I vowed to protect you. I’m saving you from myself.
I am not sure how to end this letter. I hate endings.
Wendel
I stared at the letter until the words blurred. I traced my fingers over his handwriting.
“Fuck!” I muttered.
Wendel wanted to say goodbye like this? Abandoning me in the middle of the night? We had already agreed that I would go with him to Constantinople. We had already agreed that we would protect each other.
“Ardis?” Blinking owlishly, Konstantin shuffled into the room. “What is it?”
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
“No. I noticed one of my technomancy wards was triggered. Someone must have opened the door of the apartment.”
I let out a shuddering sigh. “Wendel. He’s gone.”
“He must have left moments ago.”
Moments? My legs tensed with an urge to run after him, but he had his black dagger, Amarant, and could hide in the shadows.
I handed the tram ticket to Konstantin.
“The 71 tramline,” he said. “But it’s an old ticket.”
“Wendel gave it to me.”
The color drained from his cheeks. “Did he?”
