Page 162 of A Curse of Hope and Shadows: Part I
Dimitri turned his head, releasing a long, shuddering sigh, like the kind he used to when his body was stretched by pain. Adeline’s hand moved towards his shoulder, aching to pull him into her arms, to assure him she didn’t mean it, to take it all back. She was meant to help him, and here she was just a knife to his wounds.
Yet the blade twisted in her own gut, too.
“What happens now?” he asked.
“Your… your father has offered me another job,” she said. “Seeing as you don’t need a maid anymore. I… I’ll still be here. I’llalwaysbe here. When… when you’ve had some time—”when webothhave—“I hope you’ll come and see me. I will… I will always be your friend, Dimitri. Whether or not you want me to be.”
She turned towards the door, even now, begging him to call him back, to tell her she was wrong, to see through her nonsense, to hold her, to kiss her, to speak his beautiful words again...
“I hadn’t smiled in a long time, before I met you,” she said, hand on the doorknob.
“You smiled all the time.” Dimitri’s answer was quiet and terse.
“Not… not really. Not inside. I smiled because that was how I survived, not because I felt any joy. And… and there must have been moments before you when I did, or should have, but I was too exhausted to be happy. But I was happy with you. Really, truly I was.”
She opened the door, stepping across the threshold.
“Don’t give me too much credit for saving you, when I think you saved me too.”
Chapter Thirty-seven: The Parting and the Promise
Dimitri had known loss. He had known pain. And for a brief, fleeting moment, when Adeline was in his arms, and he was kissing her, and she him, and he was curse-free and whole and not a fraction of him hurt, he had known joy.
Pure, unfiltered, uncomplicated joy.
And in seconds that had been ripped away from him.
He had been sure, when he’d come around in the woodlands, when he’d realised the curse had ended and Adeline was there, that everything would be all right. Because how could a love that could break curses be less important than social status? Somehow, they would be together. Somehow, it would all work out.
And then it hadn’t. Worse than telling them they couldn’t be together, she told him that she didn’t feel that way. That it didn’t matter what he felt, because she didn’t.
And he found himself thinking that of everything he had ever endured, believing that she loved him was the worst agony of all.
He did not know how long he sat in his room afterwards, whether it was a day, or three, or a week. He was conscious of meals being sent to him, of going back barely touched. He kept the curtains drawn, the light shut out, thinking wistfully of days of pain and the pleasure of her company.
I would have spent my life in shadow if I could have spent it at your side.
But she didn’t want to. She never wanted to.
He heard she’d requested a leave of absence. That was probably for the best. He didn’t have to worry about running into her the few times he left his room, or feel her presence ghosting the corridors. A few times, before she’d gone home, he swore he felt something pass his room, like a light shadow pressing against his door.
He never went to it, and it vanished as surely as smoke.
Eventually, there came a knock.
“Enter.”
His father walked into the room, striding into the centre and coughing irritably when Dimitri didn’t rise to attention.
Dimitri swallowed a groan, dragging himself upright. “Am I expected to bow, next?”
“I am your duke as well as your father, but we’ll forget that protocol for the moment.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“How much longer do you intend to wallow in his room over some—”
“If you want something from me, I highly suggest you don’t finish that sentence.”
