Page 168 of Reckoning

I scoop her up, carrying her over to the bed. “It is. And you’ve earnt yourself some rest.”

She sighs, leaning into my chest. “Only if you promise to stay here beside me.”

“Where else would I want to be?”

Sofia

Two days later I have the surgery. I know Koen is still furious about it. I know Roman is ashamed that our father did this in the first place.

But to me, this doesn’t feel like a bad thing. Like a travesty.

It feels like I’m ridding myself of the last remnants of Horace Montague. It feels like I’m setting myself free.

Reid said I was cursed and in a way, I agree. I am cursed. My father cursed me. And having this damned diamond cut out will free me from it.

They knock me out entirely. Koen is as good as his word, staying right by my side the whole time and from what I can tell the surgeons are so afraid of him that they barely dared breathe.

I don’t get to see the stone. Magnus steals it away before I even come round.

I guess it’s better that way. How would it feel to look at it anyway and know that my father valued that one thing more than his own daughter’s life?

As I wake up, groggy and in pain, it’s Koen who’s there, holding my hand, ensuring that I know I’m safe.

I have a piece of plastic in my left hand still from where they pumped me full of meds. My body won’t stop shaking from the anaesthetic and it’s only Koen’s arms holding me tight, keeping me warm, that seems to ease it.

I curl up, desperately thirsty, and Koen grabs a glass, places it to my lips and holds it until I’ve sipped as much as I can.

Magnus was right with his promise of the best surgeons. We had to fly to New York for the operation. By private jet, naturally. I’ll admit the thought of a vacation, of being away from the oppressive atmosphere of Verona is what helped calm me when I started to overthink it all. When I started to panic.

That first night, I get little sleep. I daze in and out, fighting the pain and the constant need to pee. Apparently my bladder did not like the anaesthetic.

As I shift in bed and try to get comfortable, Koen is so careful to hold me in a way that soothes but doesn’t constrict.

And when he realises I really am not sleeping, he starts whispering of the future, of what he wants from it, how he sees us building a new home, a bigger one – as if we need that. He promises that this one will have a bigger pool and an actual library and though it hurts to laugh, I do, wiping the happy tears that seem to escape my eyes.

“You’ll have it, Sofia.” He states. “Everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

I smile, curling into him more. He’s what I wanted. He’s what I needed.

“If you want a wedding, if you want a ring, then say it…”

“No,” I gasp. I don’t want that. I never want that.

He frowns, brushing my hair from my face. “You don’t want to get married?”

“Not…” I gulp, trying to make my brain work, trying to articulate those thoughts. “I don’t need that. I don’t want to be tied, to be trapped.”

He nods like he understands and I pray to god that he does. It’s not him that’s the issue, it’s not that I don’t want to be with him, to spend my life with him but I can’t go down that route. Not again.

He plants a kiss on my head, gently, lovingly.

“Then no marriage.” He murmurs.

My heart seems to ease, relief floods through me. He’s not angry, he’s not hurt. It clearly doesn’t seem to bother him the way I feared it would.

“You don’t mind?” I whisper.

He smiles, shaking his head. “I want what you want.” He states. “Besides, you sold your soul to me, remember? Isn’t that worth far more than a marriage?”