Page 26 of Beyond the Treaty

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Page 26 of Beyond the Treaty

The pull I had been fighting all night surged back to the surface, undeniable and unforgiving. I wanted to close the space between us, to reach for her as I had earlier, to feel her warmth against me once more.

But I couldn’t. Not again.

Instead, I clenched my fists against my knees and uttered the only thing I could.

“I’ll be here. No matter what.”

And though the words were true, I couldn’t help but wonder if they were sufficient. The air between us felt charged, a fragile thread stretched taut, as if the wrong word or movement could shatter it completely. Elara didn’t look away, her sharp, searching gaze locked onto mine, as though she were trying to see past every layer I’d built to keep the world at bay. For a moment, I allowed her to doso.

Her voice, soft yet steady, broke the silence. “You’ve given up so much for this fight, haven’t you?”

I exhaled sharply, the weight of her words cutting deeper than I cared to admit. “We all give something,” I replied, my tone guarded. “The only choice is whether it’s taken or given willingly.”

“And what did you give?” she pressed, her brow furrowing, her curiosity genuine.

For a heartbeat, I contemplated brushing her question aside, deflecting as I always had. But the way she looked at me, open, unyielding, made it impossible to hide.

“Everything,” I said simply, the word heavier than the tome we’d stolen. “My life, my peace, any semblance of freedom I might have had. All of it went to the Council’s fire the moment I saw what they were doing to this realm.”

The air between us felt charged, a delicate thread pulled taut, as if the slightest word or movement could shatter it completely. Elara didn’t look away, her keen, searching gaze fixed on mine, as though she could see through every layer I’d constructed to keep the world at bay.

As she leaned slightly forward, Elara’s blanket slipped from her shoulders. “Do you regret it?”

Her question took me by surprise, not because I hadn’t pondered the same thing countless times, but because of the way she asked. It was as if my answer held significance for her in ways I couldn’t fully comprehend.

“I don’t have the luxury of regret,” I admitted after a mo- ment’s hesitation. “The moment I embarked on this path, regret turned into a weakness I couldn’t afford. But...”

I hesitated, the truth poised on the tip of my tongue. Yet you make me question that resolve.

She tilted her head, waiting patiently. Her patience was equally infuriating and endearing.

“But I’ve often pondered,” I continued, my voice soft. “Whatwould it be like to reclaim even a small part of what I’ve given. To select something for myself, just once.”

Her expression softened, and something unspoken lingered between us, delicate and raw.

“You can,” she said quietly, her tone nearly defiant. “You’re not merely the fight, Azrael. You’re more than that. You needn’t lose everything.”

I let out a dry, humourless laugh. “And what would I be without the fight, Elara? What remains after a lifetime of being forged into a weapon?”

Her lips parted, but no answer came. Instead, she shifted closer, her movements slow and deliberate, until the space between us was barely the breadth of a breath. Her hand brushed against mine, tentative yet steady, where it rested on my knee.

“You would still be you,” she said gently.

The words shouldn’t have held power, yet they did. They pierced through every defence I had built, lodging themselves in a place I believed I’d locked away forever.

I turned my hand, allowing her fingers to slip into mine. The warmth of her touch was both a balm and a flame, igniting everything I had tried to suppress. My heart thundered in my chest, my breath hitching as I searched her face for any hint of doubt, any sign that this wasn’t what she wanted as well.

Yet all I perceived was certainty.

“Elara...” I started, my voice scarcely above a whisper.

She shook her head gently. “Don’t overthink it,” she mur-

mured, her thumb caressing the calloused edge of my hand. “Just... be present.”

I briefly closed my eyes, grappling with the war within me. I wanted her, gods, I wanted her more than I had ever allowed myself to want. But with that desire came the sharp edge of fear: wanting her meant risking her.

Yet, I couldn’t break free. Not this time.