Page 52 of Only You
‘Kwame!’ He clapped his hand on her father’s shoulder and she saw her father’s jaw tighten. ‘I see you’ve caught up with my bride. She is the most gorgeous thing in Paris, is she not?’ Lamont stumbled over to her to sloppily kiss her cheek. Sabine stiffened from the kiss, nudging him off her.
‘Did you need something… dear?’ she asked.
‘Yes, actually. Kwame, my father asked for you to meet in his study for a cigar,’ Lamont said, looking around. ‘Ah, Gabriel!’
Her husband disappeared in the crowd and she stared at the ground, the humiliation of being tied to him sobering her.
‘You should go,’ she told her father. He was silent before kissing her forehead, a lingering touch that made her ball her fists.
‘You look beautiful, Ama.’ Tears filled her eyes, but she held them back as he walked away. She stood awkwardly in the crowd for a moment before exiting the party.
She found herself wandering the courtyard, the din of the celebration in the background. It was ironic; so many people were here to celebrate and even her husband didn’t notice her absence. She looked at her reflection in one of the fountains scattered about and sighed. She barely recognised herself anymore.
She perked up at the sound of footsteps behind her but didn’t turn. Instead, she wandered behind a tree, pulling out her father’s dagger she now always carried with her, a reminder of her greatest mistake. When she heard the soft footsteps draw near, she moved to press the knife to the person’s neck, but they caught her wrist.
‘Glad to know you didn’t forget your self-defence lessons.’
Any words died in her throat as she saw Damien standing in front of her, gripping her wrist.
It had only been two weeks, the longest of her life. It felt like their lessons and the stolen kisses were memories from years before. She remembered his carefree smiles as they talked in her room, moonlight streaming through the windows. Then, suddenly, she had nothing to remember him by, just her heartbreak to know it was real; her ruby bracelet had gone missing.
Of course, not much had changed in their time apart. He was the same charismatic soldier that could command or blend into any room he wanted. His eyes on the other hand… they belonged to a stranger.
Dropping the knife, she stepped out of the shadows. ‘Damien,’ she said surprised. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I begged Roulet to let me come. I needed to see it for myself,’ he answered.
Sabine flushed in shame and embarrassment. ‘Right,’ she said before stepping back, tugging her wrist out of his loose grip. She cleared her throat awkwardly. ‘I… didn’t expect to see you again,’ she told him. ‘I wasn’t sure if you had returned to your post.’
‘I did,’ he said. ‘I’m actually a commandant now, much to Roulet’s pleasure.’
Sabine nodded, not sure what else to say. She could only reflect on the irony of them being in the exact positions they fought so hard against.
‘You look beautiful,’ Damien said stiffly.
Warmth gathered in Sabine’s chest. It must have been hard for him to say. ‘Thank you,’ she answered. ‘I have to admit I prefer this uniform. It suits you.’
Damien smirked before touching the bright red sash that hung across his chest, and Sabine laughed quietly. His expression sobered at the sound. ‘Are you happy?’
Her smile left, and she looked at the ground. ‘I am… satisfied,’ she answered, her smile becoming strained. ‘I made the correct choice.’
‘Your mouth says as much.’ He stepped closer to her, and she wondered if he would touch her, her nerves tingling in anticipation. At the last moment, he stepped around her. ‘But your eyes do not,’ he whispered.
Sabine’s face fell as memories of the last few weeks flooded her mind, how bleak they were. She clenched her hands into fists and composed herself.
‘Well, either way, it’s no longer your concern,’ she replied.
His jaw clenched at her statement, but his face stayed impassive. ‘A martyr through and through,’ he said passively.
She looked down so he couldn’t see the regret that consumed her. Perhaps, it would be better to retire for the night. She opened her eyes and froze when she saw smoke rising from the estate.
‘Damien,’ she whispered, pointing behind him.
He turned, his gaze following the smoke above her, and pushed her back towards the party. ‘Get out,’ he commanded. ‘I’ll go in and evacuate the crowd.’
‘Damien, no!’
‘I won’t go in,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry and don’t look back.’
