Page 17 of His Bride

I take a sip of the gin, letting the alcohol sting the back of my throat. “For a corrupt priest, you’re very intuitive.”

“There are some things religion can’t teach you.” His gaze remains on me, holding a personal and yet distant weight. “What’s troubling you?”

For a moment, I study him, not sure I can trust him. Probably not. But I have nothing to lose.

I grasp my glass with both hands, staring at it as I say, “No one trusts me. Caelian avoids me. I think they blame me for what happened to Alexius.”

The tears burn, and I dash one away.

“Dotheyblame you, or doyoublame you?”

“Let’s say that’s a unanimous vote of blame laying.”

His smile is small, yet somehow a comfort. “Guilt is a heavy burden, isn't it?”

“I keep thinking if I hadn’t married Caelian, none of this would have happened. If I hadn’t run, and just married Aurelio?—”

“If you’d been blonde. If you’d been taller. If you’d been born on a Thursday under a full moon.Ifis a dangerous word. And it changes nothing. There’s a now and the future. Oh, fuck, am I boring,” he mutters. But his eyes are kind.

“And Caelian?” I ask. “He doesn’t want to be in the same room as me.”

“Grief is one fucked up monster. It does shitty things. It turns things on their sides and pretends up is down and down is up.” He takes a drag of his smoke, then ashes. “Try to talk, simple words, just what’s in your heart.”

“And what, Father?” I don’t miss the way his mouth twists up at that. “Tell myself he doesn’t mean anything horrible he might say?”

“Caelian’s a lot of things, mostly cocky. He handles shit with humor. There isn’t much room for cocky and humor right now, so that…” He shrugs. “It can make a man feel displaced.”

“And a woman?”

“Well, that’s the secret of life, isn’t it? Women are just fucking smarter than men.”

Chapter 5

GIANA

Ifind the small library on the second floor.

It's tucked away in a quiet corner, surrounded by tall bookshelves filled with leather-bound tomes and well-loved paperbacks.

The air is musty, but not unpleasant, and I find myself drawn to a particularly gothic-looking book to fit my somber mood.

I continue trying to read the book. The cover feels cool and smooth under my fingertips, its intricate details hinting at the dark tale within.

Every so often, muffled voices and laughter drift up from the first floor, accompanied by a delicious, savory aroma. My stomach growls at the thought of dinner, but my current mood makes it difficult to even think about food.

No one comes looking for me.

Why would they?

If I’m not there, they can talk about whatever it is they clearly don’t want me involved in. My presence is a complication to them, an inconvenience.

I might be Caelian’s wife, but I’ve become a wallflower in this house—someone who is seen yet not heard or spoken to. My heart aches at the thought, but the painful reality is better than pretending all is well.

I know Tobias wanted to make me feel better; even unpriestly priests want to make a person feel in a better place. But the thing is, I know why Mira and Nicoli were talking. I know why Caelian won’t share anything with me and disappears when I come into view.

They blame me.

All of them.

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