Page 40

The Will to Leave

The pale morning sunlight cast a golden glow over the room.

Dust motes danced in the beams, and the faint scent of smoke from the hearth lingered, mingling with the earthy aroma of mint from the main room.

élise’s smile widened as she stretched in bed, her body still aching from the quiet pleasure of tending to the garden while the sun warmed her winter-chilled skin the day before.

She hummed with the satisfaction of accomplishment.

The past fourteen days had been nothing short of transformative—a blur of discovery, learning, and warmth that felt like a lifetime of joy compressed into a few moments.

She’d learned to trust herself again—to believe that happiness was still possible.

And through it all, Rollant had been there, as steady as the earth beneath her feet.

élise’s fingers brushed her lips, the memory of Rollant’s thumb still fresh as it was the first day she’d woken up in Charonne, and he’d almost kissed her.

Heat flushed her cheeks. She wanted to pull him back every day since, to demand why he had retreated.

But every time she saw him, the answer was evident in his eyes—a barrier of sorrow and duty shielded his heart.

Yet even his silences spoke of care, of the pain he carried and the love he dared not touch again.

Her own heart warred between accepting his distance and defying it, yearning to be the one who could draw him back into the light.

But anger mixed with her yearning—a simmering frustration that he could give so much, yet hold himself back from her entirely.

She knew his reasons, and she understood his duty. But she also knew her own heart.

Every shared glance and every quiet moment with Rollant had deepened her sense of belonging.

Today, her heart was resolute. She would confess her love to him as a plea for him to choose her and to share the life she had begun to dream of in this place.

She would confess what she could barely admit even to herself—that she trusted him completely and wanted him by her side for as long as she lived.

She’d hope it was enough, though doubts pressed against her heart.

He’d already told her he was leaving, though she said she wanted him to stay, but if he knew he held her heart, he might reconsider.

The thought sent a flutter of anticipation through her chest. With only hours left before he was to leave, she hoped it would be enough time for him to give her the answer her heart longed to hear.

She got ready for the morning, washed her face, and donned her newly made dress—a perfect fit.

The mirror showed her face fully healed.

She bit her lips and pinched her cheeks to bring forth a pretty pink color, as Giselle had taught her.

Her hair swept down her back, and she’d leave it that way for the day.

Her red scarf lay unused on the dresser.

She stood before the door, steadying her breath with her eyes closed and her head down.

“This is it,” she whispered.

She opened the door to find Rollant sitting at the table, about to take a sip.

He glanced up and stopped, rooted still, with the cup hovering mid-air.

His eyes traced her figure from head to toe to commit her to memory, lingering on her face with awe that made her pulse quicken.

He slowly placed his cup on the table and stood up as she approached him.

When he finally spoke, his voice was reverent, and he whispered, “You’re beautiful, élise.” He cleared his throat and pulled her chair out for her, but it remained empty.

Her heart pounded as she stepped closer, the weight of her words pressing against her chest. What if he turned her away?

What if he still chose the serviceman’s path over her?

Yet even the thought of silence, of never telling him what burned within her, felt like a betrayal to herself.

She could endure no more half-measures, no more half-spoken truths. It was now or never.

Her hand trembled as it covered his, the warmth of his skin sending a wave of reassurance and fear through her. His fingers stiffened beneath hers before relaxing, their touch grounding her as tears of bittersweet joy rimmed her eyes.

“élise.” He whispered her name as a prayer on his lips. His free hand rose as if to touch her cheek, but stopped mid-air, hovering between them. He read her mind. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

She stepped closer, her tears spilling over as she shook her head. “I know exactly what I’m asking, Rollant. I’m asking you to stay—not because I need you, but because I love you.”

His shoulders slumped as if he wanted to wrap his arms around her. His gaze dipped to her lips. He shifted closer but pulled his hand away, remaining silent.

“Not because you saved me, or because of everything you’ve done for me, but because of who you are.

” She pressed on despite his silence. “Because I see the goodness in you, despite what you say you’ve done.

I see the strength that carries you through every burden you bear alone.

And I want to share it with you—not to take it away, but to bear it together. ”

She grabbed his hand. “I trust you, Rollant, with everything that I am. I want you by my side for the rest of my life. I want to grow old with you. I want a life with you.”

The silence stretched between them, fragile as an old spider’s web. Rollant’s gaze darkened, his eyes swimming with emotion. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his jaw tightening.

“You could stay,” she whispered, her voice breaking with the hope she couldn’t contain. “I doubt the king would notice a single navy man absent, or even where to look for you. I would not think less of you if you did not return even though you gave your word.”

Rollant’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes flickering with regret. “I would think less of myself,” he said. His voice was firm, yet it carried the weight of sorrow and deception. He was making an excuse.

Tears spilled over élise’s cheeks, but she didn’t let herself falter. “I would not think less of you,” she said again, softer, pleading, not calling him out on his lie. “You’ve given so much. What more could they ask of you?”

“They ask everything,” Rollant said, his voice bitter yet resigned. “And I am bound to give it. It is who I am, élise. It is the oath I took, and I cannot break it without breaking the man I have struggled so hard to remain.”

There was no deception that time. That was the truth, and it angered her. “Why reveal your feelings for me if you were going to leave?” she demanded, her voice trembling with frustration and pain. “Why give me hope if you knew it would only end like this?”

His eyes softened, and he shook his head, his hand falling away from hers. “I am sorry, élise,” he said, his voice thick. “I am sorry I revealed my feelings for you. I was wrong to do so, knowing I cannot be in your life.”

“You are in my life now,” she countered, her voice fierce with determination.

“I will not be any longer,” he said, shaking his head again, his expression hardening with resolve, but his voice betrayed his facade.

“I know it feels as if I am not choosing you, but I am, élise, and that choice forces my absence from your life. I’ll not be returning.

You deserve more than I can give. You deserve peace, love, and freedom—not the shadow of a man bound to a duty that will never end. ”

Her breath hitched as the truth of his words sank in, leaving a hollow void in her chest. But she refused to crumble. If this were the last time she would see him, she would not let him leave with only her tears.

She stepped back, her hand falling to her side as well. The space between them felt like a chasm, one she didn’t want.

“Then go,” she said, her voice steadier than expected. She didn’t understand his logic, but he had told her from the beginning he wasn’t to stay. Her chin lifted to keep her tears from falling. She had been a stupid girl, a stupid, stupid girl.

Her lip quivered. “If you’ve made your choice, I won’t beg you to stay anymore. But know this, Rollant: If I can’t make you stay, I’ll prove I don’t need you to.”

Her eyes burned, but she didn’t flinch, her resolve building with each word. “I will survive. I will fight. And I will honor the sanctuary you gave me. Not because of you, but for me.”

For a moment, Rollant stood frozen as though her words had struck a chord of admiration in him.

He reached out, his hand brushing her cheek, but stopped just short of touching her.

Instead, he swept his hand around a lock of her hair, letting the ends glide off his fingers.

They twisted into his palm, and his fist dropped to his side.

“I know you will, élise,” he said. “I told you in Le Marais; you are stronger than you know.”

He withdrew his gaze and scanned the hearth and counter before letting a finger brush the top of the table. “Would you like to have breakfast one last time together?”

She shook her head. She said what needed to be said, and there was nothing more. Her arms crossed at her belly to keep the pain inside.

“Then I shall get an early start to port. It may be beneficial since the river is likely frozen.” He took a last sip of tea before walking toward the bedroom to pack his bag.

Her eyes shut tight, and she called out, still facing the table, as his footsteps neared the bedroom door. “Will you leave your long shirt?”

The wooden planks creaked as his weight shifted as he likely debated an answer.

Her voice quaked with justification. “I’ve found it comfortable.” She drew a deep breath and stared at his empty cup of tea. “For sleeping, that is.” The request was small, almost trivial, but it carried the weight of her longing—something to hold onto when he was gone.

He hesitated but finally said, “Of course, Mademoiselle.”

A while later, he emerged with a packed sack slung over his shoulder.

élise was seated at the table, sipping her mint tea. She had not touched her bread and cheese, as her appetite had vanished.

He lingered in the doorway between the entry room and the main room with his hand firmly on the post as though it were the only sturdy frame to keep him upright.

He turned to face her. “Don’t tell anyone in the city about this place, élise,” he said quietly.

“They’ll tell Gabin in exchange for bread, and then he’ll come for you. Keep this place a secret, please.”

Her lips pressed thin as the corners of her mouth pinched tight.

Those were his last words to her? She pushed the thought aside and instead spoke her feelings.

“Always the protector, Rollant.” He remained silent, so she agreed.

“To honor your gift, I promise this home will be a secret to everyone in the city.”

He nodded in gratitude before his facade dropped. The desire to run back to her, take her in his arms, and stay forever flooded his eyes.

She stood with a fluid grace, hoping for him to do so.

“Goodbye, élise,” he whispered, straightened, and turned from her sight. The bar lifted. The door opened. Deliberate footsteps echoed. The door closed. He was gone.

She didn’t watch him go. She didn’t trust herself to.

Instead, she spun toward the hearth, the embers still faintly glowing from fresh wood. The scent of mint and smoke filled her lungs, grounding her in the nightmare.

The air shifted—both lighter and heavier all at once.

élise allowed herself to cry, raw and unrestrained.

She sank to her knees, wrapping her arms around her belly as it heaved.

Her heart broke, giving rise to a burning ache in her chest. Every word he spoke, every moment they’d shared, every smile on his lips when he thought she wasn’t looking, and every time his voice softened when he said her name—those fragments felt like sunlight slipping through her fingers.

* * *

When no more tears were left to fall, she drew a shaky breath over trembling lips and grasped the chair to help her stand. Her legs wavered, and she swayed against the wood of the chair. The fire blurred in sight as the silence pressed in around her.

She had a choice now, and she would make it.

If Rollant chose to leave, she would make sure her own life, her own fight, would be something worth living for. Something worth loving. Something worth dying for, in the end.

“This isn’t the end, though,” she whispered to the empty room. It couldn’t be. The embers caught a glimmer of new light. She wiped her cheeks. “Not for me.”

But the day had already been long, and she turned toward the bedroom, her body heavy with exhaustion but her mind refusing to let go of him.

She rounded the doorway and found his shirt neatly folded on top of the dresser, next to his dagger, and a coin in place of her red scarf.

She placed her hand over the coin’s cool metal.

Her heart clenched at the unspoken message it carried.

He took a reminder of her as she had asked for one of him.

The coin was more than a means to replace it with another—it symbolized what he believed she could build without him.

Practical, like he always was, yet so achingly personal.

She clutched the coin tightly, her tears threatening to fall again.

She grabbed his shirt and collapsed onto the bed with the collar pressed against her nose.

He truly loved her, believing he was doing what was best for her.

But if he took her scarf, maybe, maybe one day, he would return.

Perhaps after the Estates-General adjourned, he would be free from duty and could come back to her.

She clutched the soft cotton and held it tight.

If he ever did, she would be ready. She promised herself she would make this place a sanctuary, not just for him, but for herself too—a home she could be proud of, one built with her own hands and strength.