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élise’s chest constricted at the pain in his voice and could feel him withdrawing even further into himself to pull out each confession. She took his hands in hers, holding him tightly as if she could stop the sorceress’ deal and grant his desires.

“Yet my duty to the crown binds me to a future I never chose in full understanding.”

He wiped his eyes in vain. “And knowing I will have to be alone again after knowing you, after loving you, losing you,”—he kissed the back of her hand—“It is more than I can bear. This home bringing me such joy with you alive will be nothing but pain.”

élise rubbed his back and shifted on the sofa to be as close to him as she could.

“You see,” he started and wiped his tears. “I did not want to darken your day with such morbid thoughts.”

She leaned her forehead to his. “You did not darken my day,” she whispered.

“You can’t do everything, Rollant. Though immortal, you are still one man.

You stayed with Louis Charles more than you had to because no other royalist would risk their life posing as a Temple Guard.

You’ve told me he believes he is safe with you, and that matters, Rollant. You have not failed him.”

His tears fell atop her hands, and she nuzzled his cheek, her whispers finding the crevices between their flesh.

“Find peace, Rollant. Come home to me. Let this place be your refuge. Let me be your sanctuary as you are to me, and when I am in the grave, come here with a smile, not in pain. Remember our life together. Talk to me. Talk to my grave. I will still share your burdens. You will never have to be alone again.”

Rollant looked at her, his eyes filled with both gratitude and sorrow. “Oh, élise,” he said, gingerly stroking her neck. “I must have done something right over the past centuries to be blessed with you by my side.”

She wiped his tears with her thumbs and brushed his lips.

“I hate leaving the boy, but after my shift, there is nothing more I can do,” he said. “I will come here every night and leave every morning.”

“It is over an hour’s walk each way,” élise said with eyebrows raised.

“I don’t care. I don’t want to spend another night away from you.” His hand slid up to her cheek. “We’ve already spent so many apart.”

She reached for his hand again, squeezing it tighter this time. The silence between them thickened as the fire crackled softly in the hearth. His thumb traced circles on her skin, and for a moment, the rest of the world felt distant.

Rollant’s breath was shallow. His hands trembled as he cupped her face, his calloused fingers feather-light against her skin. The intensity in his eyes dove deep into his soul, raw and clear.

élise swallowed, her heart pounding. She should pull away, seeing the flame of desire in his eyes.

She should remind herself of the risk of what happens when his arms enclose her.

But how could she, when every fiber of her being ached to ease his sorrow?

To be the light that chased away his darkness?

To fuel the flame neither wanted to extinguish?

She lifted her hands, threading her fingers through his hair.

His gaze searched hers, still holding back.

"Let go," she whispered, knowing his desires, his needs, her needs, her desires. "Just this once."

And so he kissed her—soft at first, tentative before the pressure of his lips deepened as if he was letting go of everything he’d been holding back: centuries of restraint and the fear of losing what he had finally found.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth. The weight of time, of fate, of curses—none of it mattered at that moment. There was only this. Only them.

As they moved, the kitchen hearth dimmed behind them, and the bedroom hearth light flickered.

The dark closed in as if it already knew what they were about to risk.

He made her forget he was cursed. But curses never forget.

* * *

Her lungs burned, clawing for air that wouldn’t come. Darkness crowded the edges of her vision, and panic swelled in her chest. Death waited.

“Breathe! élise, breathe!” Rollant’s voice cracked with fear and carried her through the darkness. His hands trembled as he cradled her head, trying to pour life into her through sheer will.

Death receded. A haggard breath filled her lungs.

The next thing she knew, Rollant had her head up and a cup of cool mint tea at her lips.

The curse’s weight on her chest pressed against her lungs in a dull ache. She rolled to her side and coughed it away. Rollant pressed his hand against her back, supporting her as she regained her breath.

The cool wood floor soothed her forehead until normalcy returned. She sat up, rubbed her chest, and then lifted her gaze to Rollant’s. He sat back against the bed. He was pale. Shaken. His elbows rested on his knees, his face buried in his hands.

“élise, I want to be with you as much as you want to be with me, but I was cursed for a reason.” He shook his head with eyes full of fear. He slammed his fists on his knees and let out a shuddering breath with words barely composed. “I can’t—I can’t keep risking your life, élise.”

She reached for him, but he pulled away, his hands balling into fists on his thighs.

“I’ve spent centuries as a knight and a soldier.

Fighting, killing, watching others die—this body has been my weapon, my curse.

And now, with you, it’s supposed to be something more, but all it does is hurt you.

” With a clenched jaw, he fidgeted with the hem of his linen breeches with angry fingers.

“I’m afraid to love you as a husband should. I’m afraid I’ll kill you.”

A small groan escaped her lips as the last of the curse pricked her chest.

Rollant whispered, “Three times. It has happened three times. I will not risk a fourth.” He stood up, offering her a hand, which she took.

Instead of pulling her to her feet, he pulled her close, grabbing the sides of her chemise.

His lips brushed against the curve of her neck—a kiss full of longing and restraint.

“This,” he whispered, his voice trembling, “is all I can give you.”

élise’s hands caressed the scars on his chest as her gaze fell there.

Rollant exhaled sharply as she traced the lines of his scars, her fingertips featherlight over skin that had long forgotten gentle touch.

“I’ve seen your scars, but I’ve never asked.

Where did you get these? I thought your body always healed? ”

He let out a soft, bitter chuckle. “Scars from my first life never left.”

“Were they painful?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “But it was so long ago, I don’t remember as vividly.”

“Was your life at risk?”

“Yes, but . . .” His voice trailed off, and a flicker of understanding flashed in his eyes.

élise lifted her gaze, meeting his. She had spent years aching for him, and living with the emptiness of not trying was unacceptable.

“I’m willing to bear unseen scars as we learn how to be husband and wife,” she whispered.

He stepped back as though physically recoiling from her words. “But I’m not.”

“You think this curse is punishment, Rollant, but what if it’s a test? A test of how much we’re willing to fight for each other.”

His lips thinned as he shook his head.

“I don’t care if it hurts,” she said. “I don’t care if it leaves marks. I want you. Whatever that looks like. Whatever it costs. It’s worth it to me. Please don’t shut me out.”

Their life struggles together would not break them but strengthen them. Rollant’s curse would be something they faced together rather than a barrier between them.

It was as if her words pierced him, straight into the part of him that still dared to hope. He swallowed hard, but tears pricked his eyes. “You deserve better than this, élise.” His voice was hoarse and pleading. “I cannot keep control of myself, and you end up?—”

Rollant’s jaw tightened, his hands flexing at his sides as though resisting the urge to reach for her. His shoulders sagged, and he looked away as if afraid his gaze alone might hurt her.

élise stepped away from him, watching his body quiver with longing and fear.

She stooped and hesitated before pulling a box from under the bed.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she unboxed the last week’s worth of labor.

She ran the twine through her fingers, tracing each knot she had woven by hand.

It was a simple thing—humble, rough, imperfect.

Her heart pounded in her chest at the ridiculous insinuation behind it. He could laugh at her or hate it.

A flush crept up her neck. She met his gaze, feeling the longing in his eyes. She had to try, at least. Her hands unfurled the twine as she presented it to him. “I made this for you,” she whispered.

“A rope?” Rollant’s eyes searched hers.

élise’s gaze dropped. “Yes,” she said, lowering it and unable to say anything more. Shame rose on her cheeks.

But Rollant’s hands were warm against her skin as he cradled her neck, and she could feel the faint tremor of his fingers, the lingering notes of his desire and restraint.

She stepped closer to him, the twine between their chests. “If we could . . . “ Her voice trailed off as they searched each other souls.

His thumb grazed the edge of her jaw, a touch so light it ached before his hands slid down to the rope between them. He ran his fingers over the fibers, their fingers brushing. “If I fail you?” he asked.

“Then I will lose breath, and you will let go, and then I will recover like before.”

As he let her loop the twine over his shoulders, she realized it was a mirror of them—fragile in places, strong in others, something woven together with care. Her fingers trailed the strong curve of his arms, traveling to his wrists. She pulled it gently, testing its hold.

Rollant’s lips curved into a faint smile, but his eyes softened with something far more tender.

For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them. The need to close the distance, to taste his kiss, burned through her like fire.

But his breath hitched. “I keep seeing you collapsed on the floor,” he confessed with a voice thick with pain. “I hear how your breath stuttered and the look of fear in your eyes.”

Her breath mingled with his, stirring the space between them. She traced her fingers along his forearm, feeling the quiet tension beneath his skin—the restraint, the wanting. The firelight flickered, throwing shadows across his face and deepening the fearful expression in his eyes.

“Trust me,” she whispered, her voice steady. “We’ll figure it out together.”

She leaned to kiss him, but he remained still.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Her brow furrowed at his stillness. She opened her mouth to ask him again what was the matter, but he leaned forward, biting her lip in a sensual kiss. She cradled his face in her hands and pressed her body close to his until she felt a tear crash into her fingers.

“Rollant?” she whispered.

His hazy gaze was full of adoration, and a soft smile spread over his lips. “You’ve taught me eternity is empty without love," he whispered on her lips. “I would trade the thousand lifetimes I’ve lived for just one life with you.”

élise pulled back slightly, her heart tightening in her chest as she registered the depth and pain of his raw confession. His words etched into her soul.

Her eyes burned. She brushed away his tear that had fallen onto her fingers, tracing the hard line of his jaw, and memorizing the vulnerability in his eyes as if she could hold onto it forever.

Her gaze fell to the twine between them—the simple rope she had woven, imperfect but strong. A promise bound by her own hands. A thread linking past and future. A tether between them in the only lifetime that mattered.

She curled her fingers around it, gently pulling, drawing him closer, not to fate, not to eternity, but to her.

"Then let this be the life that matters," she whispered, kissing him softly. "Let this be the one where we choose each other. Where we choose love."

The muscles in his arms twitched as if still resisting, still afraid of taking what she had given him long ago. But as her lips brushed his again, he surrendered and leaned into her warmth, her love, and their fragile, fleeting miracle.

And in that moment, élise knew—love was not measured in lifetimes but in moments. And she would make every moment of her life with Rollant count for the thousand lifetimes he would endure without her.