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As Rollant guided her into the inn, élise’s fingers lingered on his shirt.

Her steps faltered, each one slower than the last, her weight sagging into Rollant’s arm as though she could no longer bear the effort of standing on her own.

For a moment, he thought she might let go, her hand trembling as if the gesture was too vulnerable to follow through.

But then her grip tightened, the fabric bunching under her quivering fingers.

The silent act spoke louder than words—gratitude, perhaps, or trust beginning to crack through the armor she wore.

* * *

After Rollant and élise arrived at the inn, the two men returned to the Rue de Faubourg-Saint Antione, hoping to report that élise was still unwell—or at least that was Rollant’s wish.

Rollant ensured élise had all her essentials every morning, including fresh water, bread, cheese, and stew. In the evenings, he heated the water pan to warm her bed and brought more bread and stew, yet remaining true to his intentions, he left her to sleep alone.

On the third morning, Rollant knocked on the door, holding a special gift.

The door opened to reveal élise standing fresh-faced with an open smile and dewy skin. The ends of her hair were still wet, leaving dark water blots on her threadbare dress.

“Come in, Rollant,” she said and side-stepped to allow him to enter. She glanced at the fabric bundle in his arms while he noticed the empty water pitcher near the basin and the wet washcloth.

“I’m glad you felt well enough to wash yourself,” he said, putting the gift on the bed. “I brought you a present that I hope can last you through the winter.”

She gave him a sly eye with a slight upturn of her lip. “What is it?”

“Open it and see,” he said with an unexpected anxiousness fluttering in his belly.

She perched on the edge of the bed, gesturing for him to sit beside her. He lifted a hand in polite refusal, stepping back instead. He couldn’t risk being that close.

A soft wave of disappointment crossed her face, but she turned her attention to the first bundle and unrolled it with care.

“A dress!” she exclaimed, rubbing the thick fabric through her fingers. “A new dress?” She gathered the garment into her arms and smiled as bright as the Sun King’s City of Lights. “Oh, Rollant, I needed a new dress; I haven’t had one in years.”

Rollant’s lips curved into a small smile at her joy, but his chest ached. Such a simple gift—and yet, for her, perhaps it wasn’t simple at all. He had seen too many like her, living hand-to-mouth, scraping by in a world that seemed bent on crushing them.

“Do you like the color?”

Her fingers smoothed over the long skirt, her touch reverent. “I love it. The green is beautiful. So different from brown and gray.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor.

He could have chosen a gown fit for a noblewoman, something rich and fine.

But a dress like that would have been a burden, not a blessing.

She couldn’t return to the bakery in such a thing—or to Gabin.

The dress had to be practical, even if his heart wished to give her the world.

“I wanted you to remember every time you wear it that you are unique and have a strength that leads,” he said, lifting his gaze. “I chose green because it reminds me of you,” he said softly. “No matter what’s thrown at you, you endure. You find a way to grow.”

Her smile faltered, the glow in her eyes dimming as her gaze fell to the dress in her lap. “I very much doubt that.” Her fingers stilled. “But… maybe someday.” She glanced at the second rolled fabric on the bed. “Another dress?” she asked, before he could respond.

Rollant shook his head.

She grabbed it in haste, unfurling the length. “A coat?” Her jaw fell agape. “You gave me a dress and a coat?” Her brow furrowed. Suspicion replaced her earlier joy. “Why . . . why would you do this for me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He stilled. “Because you deserve it, and you need it,” he said, simply. “And because I can.”

She smoothed her hand over the fabric, her fingers lingering on its sturdy weave. “They are beautiful,” she whispered, but her voice wavered. A shadow flickered across her expression. “But . . . it’s too much. I—I’m not used to gifts.”

“It is not,” he reassured her. “I can give you a life like this. It can be on the other side of Paris or outside the city walls. You can have peace, élise.” His voice held a longing, an urging for her to take his offer.

“Gabin will find me, just as he found me here.”

“He only found you because I told him where I was taking you—the charity hospital in Le Marais.”

élise shook her head. “Gabin hates you. He tells me every night. Gabin would find me. I’m sure of it.

” Her gaze drifted to the door of the inn.

“It’s not just Gabin,” she whispered, her voice thick.

“It’s… everything. The bakery, the streets, the hunger—it’s all I know.

What if I leave and fail? What if it’s worse than what I have now?

I need to go back; I have to return to him.

He could hurt my friends to spite me. They’ve gone days without bread already. ”

Rollant studied the outline of her profile, envisioning the bruises that would likely migrate from her arms to her cheeks in time. “Choose yourself, élise. This one time, do what is best for you.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at the garments on her lap. Her breath caught in her throat. “Even if I did . . . If I tried, what about you?”

“What about me?” Rollant asked, kneeling before her.

She wet her lips before adjusting her posture. Her eyes closed, accompanied by a deep breath. “Must you go back?” she asked, toying with the fabric. Her eyes opened to slits. “What if we began a new life together?” The question was almost inaudible.

He wanted to promise her the world, to vow he would stay at her side no matter the cost. But the chains of his curse were heavier than the darkest oath he’d ever taken, and the lies he carried—his persona as a navy man, his very purpose in Paris—were a wall he could never let her breach.

To protect her, he could only offer her freedom from Gabin, not himself.

“I am bound by oath, élise, and I am a man of my word.” The sting of guilt hit him deep in the belly.

He had lied to her. He was not a man of his word, but maybe she would never find out.

He would just become a memory to her. Maybe one day, she would find someone who loved her like he wanted to and provide the resources and protection that she needed to feel safe.

Her gaze found his again, and the tears fell from their welling.

She touched his jaw, and her lips brushed his cheek, a fleeting warmth that burned through the icy walls he had built around his heart.

He wanted to pull her closer, to lose himself in her touch and return her kiss tenfold.

But the weight of his curse sat thick between them, an invisible barrier he could never cross, a silent specter that forbade what his heart wanted most—to shield her in the one way he could not.

“If I could leave, I would. If I could have a life with you, I would,” he whispered, kissing the back of her hand to satisfy his desires. Slowly, he returned her hand to her lap.

“Even to a king who hates his people?” she asked through clenched teeth.

Rollant rubbed her fingers with his thumb. “I don’t think he hates anyone. I think he does not know what to do. It’s why he has called the Estates-General.”

Her gaze turned inward, and her hand slipped out from under his hand.

“Well, it is easy for you to say, you who are paid with coin.” élise pulled the dress and coat into her crossed arms. “You get to reap the benefits of us, don’t you, Rollant?

And then look like a savior when you come around, throwing coins at all of us miserable people.

” She jolted up. “Is that it? Is that your fee? Do you have an ego to fill? Are you trying to buy my affection with coin?”

Rollant dropped his chin to his chest and slowly rose to meet her.

The proximity to her lips unnerved him. His lies were stones in his chest, dragging him down into silence.

If she knew the truth, she would see him not as a savior but as a fraud.

His heart beat out of his chest beneath a steady voice.

“Do you believe that, élise?” His gaze bore through hers.

After a moment, she couldn’t maintain his intensity and turned away.

“I–I don’t know what to believe.” A quiver in her lip preceded a quiver in her arms. She glanced at him before returning her gaze to the floor.

“I know why I give away bread that I need,” she finally said and sat down again on the bed.

“But I don’t know why you are so kind to me.

” Her voice broke. “I was thirteen when I learned kindness is always a barter.”

Rollant, against his better judgment, sat beside her.

élise’s fingers smoothed the edge of the coat. “My aunt had left me outside on a snowy night as punishment for not delivering my quota of stolen items. I knew I was going to die that night.”

Pain gripped Rollant’s heart as he listened.

“There was a boy, older, named Rene. He snuck me a thick blanket. I thought he cared about me and wanted to save my life.” She hesitated, her eyes flitting up to meet Rollant’s briefly before darting away.

“But I found out he was saving to get away from my aunt. Made me hand over all my coins. I didn’t want to.

I was stubborn, but I didn’t want to be left out in the cold again with nothing.

” Her voice faltered. “I was afraid to die.”

“I’m sorry élise,” he whispered.

“After Rene had saved up what he needed to escape, he did. Never once looked at me after that. Probably never thought of me again. I was just a means to an end. I was hungry and cold, and all he did was exploit me.”

“Like Gabin,” Rollant said.