Page 22

The Shadow of Desire

Rollant’s gaze washed over élise as the sunlight glinted off her raven hair as she stepped from the tent.

A youthful glow adorned her cheeks, and the dark circles under her eyes were faded.

Though her steps were unsteady, she moved with quiet determination.

Seven days had passed since he carried her to Le Marais, yet her resilience and will to live struck another chord of admiration within him.

He had already completed the king’s mission but needed to stay the full ten days he had been allotted to ensure élise was well.

That morning, élise stole his heart even more when she had given up her cot when a young mother came to the hospital, but there were no more beds. However, she was still in no state to achieve the probable hour return walk to Faubourg Saint-Antoine.

Sister Francine stopped her and drew élise into her arms. A whisper was exchanged before Sister Francine glanced at Rollant with a warm smile.

Rollant had never been jealous of the nuns’ path, but that day, at that moment, he wished he could hold someone in love like Sister Francine.

He dipped his chin to the nun before she disappeared within the tent, and he and élise closed the distance between them.

élise pressed her forehead to Rollant’s chest, and it took every muscle drawn tight to stay his hands by his side to not chance ending her life.

Instead, his fingers graced her cheek and tilted her head up so their eyes locked. In the brief moment, he wondered if a kiss would bestow upon her the same fate as his embrace. But they were in the middle of the street, already drawing wayward glances due to their proximity.

“How are you feeling?” he asked in a whisper, to keep his lips distracted.

“Better. I have a clear head, and I’m full of hope,” she said, covering her hand with his.

“Does that mean you will allow me to help you start a new life?” he asked.

Immediate fearful tears filled her eyes, and it was answer enough for him.

“I see,” he whispered. “Then,” his voice trailed off, not knowing how to help her. “What else can I do for you within the next three days? I am due to return to port after that.”

élise blinked back her tears and took a half step back.

Their hands fell to their sides. Doubt cast over her features.

“That is why I cannot go with you. You will leave, and, with it, any protection you so generously offer. And what happens if you die? If you never return? I will be left in a place with no resources and no contacts. No family. No job. Nothing. At least at the bakery, I know I have food and a place to sleep.”

“I promise you, I have enough coin for your lifetime,” Rollant said, his voice steady, though he knew protection was a promise he couldn’t keep from the palace.

“Gabin will find me, and he knows those I have been helping,” she said with a bitter undertone. “His anger, I fear, knows no bounds. He will hurt them to hurt me. He is spiteful and is capable of many types of revenge. I’d be abandoning them.” She blinked back her tears. “And so, I must go back.”

Rollant’s chest tightened at her words. The way she spoke, resigned yet firm in her resolve, stirred something deep within him. She would sacrifice a better life to protect others—even those who might never know the sacrifices she made. It was a strength he’d seen before.

He had been the same—brash, headstrong, and willing to carry any burden to shield those weaker than himself.

He had thrown himself into battle after battle, never once considering his own safety if it meant saving another life.

And for what? Rollant clenched his fists at his sides.

Sacrifices like those left him in a shell of the man he once was.

He drew a slow breath, his gaze softening as he looked at élise.

She didn’t realize it, but her strength was the same, tempered by a quiet resilience that had kept her alive through unspeakable hardship.

He feared she would meet the same end if she didn’t learn to choose herself.

He needed to convince her, though she had only known cruelty disguised as care.

“Then let me put you up in an inn here in Le Marais before you go back. You can rest and eat as much as you need.”

élise stiffened. Her gaze dropped before darting between to the passing crowd. Her fingers curled into the fabric of Rollant’s coat draped around her shoulders.

Rollant noted the tension in her shoulders and the way her jaw clenched as if holding back unspoken words.

He kept his voice even as he guessed at her sudden change in demeanor. “Two rooms, élise. Separate rooms.”

She exhaled sharply, her fingers twisting the fabric of his coat. “Two rooms?” she repeated, barely above a whisper, her eyes darting to his. There was doubt there, and something else—fear, suspicion.

Rollant nodded, softening his tone to reassure her. “I would never ask anything of you. You do not have to be afraid of me.”

Her shoulders eased a fraction, but she didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, her eyes fixed somewhere over his head, as though searching for answers in the distance. The silence between them stretched, her breaths shallow.

He couldn’t blame her for her hesitation. He’d seen too many women broken by the promises of men who claimed to care for them. The thought soured his stomach. He wished he could show her that not all kindness demanded repayment.

When she finally spoke, her voice was fragile and conflicted. “I cannot add to your cost, Rollant. Three days is a hefty expense. I can walk.”

Rollant shook his head, willing her to see the sincerity in his eyes.

“The cost is nothing compared to your well-being, élise. And the owner gave me a good deal since I stayed multiple nights. Please, rest in an inn. The road to the bakery is long. You will be tired before you even begin working again.”

Her grip on his coat loosened, but she didn’t let go.

She was weighing something—he could see it in how her lips pressed together and how she shifted her weight.

He recognized the look all too well. He’d seen it in women across war-torn villages, women who had learned to fear even the smallest acts of kindness, knowing they often carried unspoken debts.

It wasn’t mistrust of him; it was mistrust of the world.

“Two rooms, then?” she asked.

“Yes, two rooms,” he assured her with a steady voice. “I will never expect anything in return, élise.” The repeated statement caused her to find his gaze. His eyes smiled for the first time in centuries. “Thank you for allowing me to care for you.”

The street chatter filled the silence between them as élise’s chest rose and fell with quick breaths. “Why? Why do you care?” she asked. “Sister Francine said the same, but life has taught me kindness is never free.”

“It is when the giver truly cares,” he said. “Just as you give away your bread to those who need it when you hardly had enough yourself. You do not expect anything in return from them.”

Her shoulders lowered, and her eyes fluttered shut.

A sigh of relief softened her features. The corners of élise’s mouth turned up, and a soft laugh erupted from her lungs.

She shook her head, clamping her mouth shut.

She said nothing for a moment before a concession escaped in a whisper. “Well, I suppose you are right.”

Rollant’s gaze flicked over her shoulder, catching sight of two men loitering at the corner.

Their postures were relaxed, almost lazy, but their sharp gazes betrayed their intent.

One nudged the other and muttered something, both pairs of eyes locking onto élise.

A chill ran through him. Gabin’s grip stretched farther than he’d thought.

He should have known Gabin would never let go of what he claimed as his; he would never release his grip on her.

The men were there to observe and report back, chained to Gabin’s will like Malo and so many others who couldn’t intervene, bound by their dependence on his bread.

Control was always the same, enforced by brute strength or mastery over survival.

Rollant clenched his jaw. He had to act quickly, convince them élise was still not well, or her life would hang in the balance when she returned to the bakery.

“Gabin sent his men to see about you,” he whispered, locking eyes with élise. “If you want the inn, pretend you are having trouble standing.”

élise wobbled on her knees, her movements unsteady but deliberate as she leaned into him.

Rollant wrapped his arm under hers, supporting her as her weight pressed heavily against his side.

Her warmth seeped through his shirt, and for a brief, agonizing moment, he wondered if his curse could harm her through such a simple touch.

The thought was maddening. His longing for closeness was cruelly twisted by the ever-present threat of the curse that shadowed his every action.

Every touch felt like a gamble, the price of which he dared not calculate.

He adjusted his grip, careful not to pull her closer than necessary.

“Let’s get you somewhere to rest,” he said and led her to the inn he had stayed at earlier in the year.

Rollant glanced back. The two men watched them a beat too long before trailing them. He had to let them follow until they were convinced. “Really lean in, élise. They are following.”