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Her eyes shut tight. “Gabin saved me from my aunt. He’s never made me sleep outside.”

“How did he save you?”

“He came and saw me. Gave my aunt a large delivery of bread with no barter and took me with him.”

“He bought you?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “My aunt wasn’t going to let me go.”

“You could have left with him?—”

“Gabin is a lot of things, but he wouldn’t buy me. I’m not a slave.”

Rollant stayed his tongue as she released a shaky breath and continued. “Kindness always has a cost. I thought Rene cared about my life, but he didn’t. Gabin needed help with his bakery. And you?” She shook her head. “I don’t know yet.”

Her gaze finally lifted to Rollant’s, her expression guarded. “That’s why I don’t believe in free generosity. Even when it’s well-meaning, it always takes something.”

“Even the stranger who gave you a loaf of bread when you had nothing and caused you to vow to do the same?”

Her brow furrowed. “But he didn’t know me.

You know me. You have admitted your feelings for me.

I—I don’t understand you. Spending your hard-earned coin from years at sea and serving our horrible monarchy on .

. . me. For what purpose? You’ve told me we have no future together. For what gain? I am no one.”

“Don’t speak such lies,” Rollant said, placing a hand on her upper back. “You are resilient and adaptable. I admire you, élise.” His mind told his tongue to stop and not drag the poor woman into his doomed life. He pulled his hand away.

“So admiration is your motivation?” she said, her eyes pleading with him to reveal secrets he closely guarded.

Six hundred years of holding his emotions at bay, shedding any semblance of the man he once was, to simply exist in an eternal state, cracked under her silent plea.

“My mother and my wife and daughter, my brothers,” he said with a tightening chest. His mind told him to shut his mouth, but he kept speaking.

“They all died because I could not save them. My brothers died in wars fought for the king. My mother died because her love for my late father and brothers couldn’t be filled by me alone.

I lost my entire family by the time I was eight.

Amée’s family took me in. Ten years later, I was married, a knight—navy man”—he corrected—“with a child on the way. I was off on the king’s wars, and I wasn’t home to save my wife and my daughter. ”

He realized his gaze was not on élise but her coat.

“I lost myself,” he said, lifting his gaze to hers.

“I shut the world out. It was easier to endure each day if I felt nothing. And then I heard you, speaking of freedom and hope with a voice that even the angels envy. You reminded me what it felt like to care. You gave me a spark of life again, élise. I am indebted to you.”

Her lips parted at the revelation, but no words came.

“Kindness may not be free, but it is I who repays you,” he said as he let his fingers grace the side of her arm.

His confession landed between them, its weight settling in the silence. élise’s gaze dropped, her fingers curling tightly around the garments in her lap, clutching them as though they could protect her from the truth he had laid bare.

He needed her to say something; he couldn’t bear to break it himself. He’d answered her doubt, but whether she would accept it was not up to him.

Her shoulders stiffened as she shifted where she sat.

Her voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper. “I don’t . . . I didn’t know.” The tremble in her words cut through him. Her fingers twisted the coat hem, the motion small but desperate. “I didn’t think someone like you could feel so lost.”

Rollant’s chest tightened. Someone like him. He understood what she meant, though hearing it still stung. A knight. A sailor. A man with coin enough to spare for gifts, but not the life he had pretended to lead.

She finally looked up. Her gaze was raw and unfiltered.

It unsteadied him. She shook her head, her breath catching audibly.

“You said I gave you a spark of life again,” she murmured, her voice again heavy with doubt.

Her words sharpened as she continued, almost accusatory.

“But what if I can’t keep it burning? Will your gestures cease? ”

Rollant wanted to reach for her, to soothe the quiver in her voice and the doubt in her eyes, but the curse mocked his desire. His hands rested at his sides, fists clenching briefly before relaxing. He couldn’t promise her a future he couldn’t give.

“You gave me the spark, it’s up to me to keep it burning. That’s not your burden,” he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his chest. His gaze softened as he held hers. “You’re stronger than you realize. Even if you don’t believe it now, you will.”

He watched as her lips pressed into a thin line. “But I did nothing,” she murmured.

“You did everything.” His soft smile reached his eyes. “The coat and the dress,” he said quietly, “aren’t just for the winter. It’s for wherever life takes you next—because I believe you can and will choose something better.”

élise clutched the coat to her chest, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know what I’ll do,” she said, her voice barely audible. Her lips pressed into a faint, straight line. “But maybe . . . you’re right. Maybe I can choose something better . . . just not yet.”

Rollant’s heart swelled at her words, though he dared not show it. Instead, he leaned back, giving her space. “Wherever you go, élise,” he said softly, “I will give you whatever I can to support you.”

She glanced at him then, her eyes searching his face, as if trying to decode the puzzle of his kindness. And for the first time, she didn’t look away.

Rollant felt the weight of that moment—fragile, like the first green shoot breaking through winter’s frost. It wasn’t in full bloom yet, but time would tell if it would grow to maturity or wither beneath the strain.