CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
MALIK
Itucked the rough woolen blanket around Rosie, her small form barely denting the straw mattress beneath her. She was nearing that magical age of seven—when the world should be full of wonder and discovery. Despite the relentless dangers stalking us at every turn, I was determined to shield her delicate innocence from the harsh realities pressing in. Yet, it often felt like trying to light a fire amid a raging storm—futile and nearly impossible. The shadows of deceit and betrayal loomed constantly, threatening to consume us. And still, I persisted, my resolve unyielding.
Her eyelids fluttered like moth wings near the flickering candlelight, casting faint, dancing shadows across the room. The mingling scents of woodsmoke and the distant murmur of tavern patrons seeped through the floorboards, grounding us in the fragile sanctuary of the moment.
“Are we going to be okay?” she mumbled, her voice thick with the pull of sleep yet tinged with a fragile innocence that tugged painfully at my heart.
“Always,” I whispered, brushing a kiss to her forehead. “I will protect you until my dying breath.”
It was a promise as solid as the ancient stones forming the walls of Vézelay, unshakable even in the face of our precarious reality.
She burrowed deeper into the covers, her tiny hand curling around mine. “I miss my bedtime stories,” she mumbled, the wistful longing in her voice like a blade to my chest.
A small, bittersweet smile crept onto my face, defying the heaviness in my heart. “When we’re safe, my little rose, I’ll tell you a million stories. Each one will be filled with wonders and adventures beyond anything you could dream.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Across the room, Reyna sat by the window, her silhouette framed by the soft, fading light outside. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest, her posture a silent testament to her grief. The space between us felt vast and cold, a chasm carved from her pain and self-imposed isolation. She had built an invisible wall brick by brick, keeping everyone at bay since the tragedy that had shattered her world.
I longed to bridge the gap, to offer solace or even just understanding, but in her eyes, I remained a stranger. The distance between us wasn’t merely physical; it was a void filled with heartbreak, broken trust, and the jagged remnants of a love fiercely given and just as fiercely lost. She glanced at me briefly, her gaze skittering away like a frightened bird, refusing to linger.
I watched her with a quiet sadness that seemed to mirror the creaking timber of the old tavern. Yet, I understood her withdrawal with a painful clarity. To her, I was little more than a shadow passing through her life, unable to mend what had been irrevocably broken.
As Rosie’s breathing evened into the rhythmic cadence of sleep, I smoothed the creases in her blanket. Serenity clung to her small form, a fragile peace I was determined to protect. Casting one last glance at my daughter, I turned back toward the evening, knowing Reyna’s silent vigil would continue—ever watchful, always tense, bracing for life’s next cruel blow. All I could do was respect her space, standing guard from afar, hoping time would heal what seemed irreparable.
A knock shattered the stillness. I strode across the wooden floorboards, their grain rough beneath my boots, glancing back at Reyna. She didn’t stir, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the window, lost in her thoughts.
I lifted the latch, the door creaking as it opened to reveal a stout woman, her cheeks flushed from exertion or perhaps the bite of the evening chill. She bustled into the room, her gaze darting briefly toward Reyna before settling on me. A faint tension hovered in the air, amplified by the hurried energy radiating from her.
“Good sir,” she began, her voice breathless yet tinged with urgency. “I have an important message for you.”
Her eyes flickered back toward Reyna, then returned to mine, laden with an unspoken gravity. Sensing the significance of her words, I stepped into the dimly lit hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar behind me.
The woman leaned closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You are to meet someone named Zara on the next floor up. Third floor. She says it’s important.”
“Zara,” I repeated, the name slipping from my tongue like a secret code. It carried a gravity that sent a chill down my spine despite the lingering warmth of the tavern.
“Indeed.” The woman nodded emphatically, her expression underscoring the urgency of the message.
“Thank you,” I murmured, my mind already racing with the possibilities of what this summons could entail.
The woman turned and descended the corridor, her steps muffled by the thick rug underfoot, leaving me alone with the weight of this revelation.
When I re-entered the room, Reyna remained unmoving by the window, her silhouette etched in quiet defiance against the dim light. The mention of Zara’s name would mean nothing to her, yet everything I held dear seemed to hinge on this clandestine meeting. Our destiny may rest in the hands of the figure waiting just one flight above.
“I’ll be back,” I said, infusing my voice with reassurance, though the unease gnawed at me.
Her gaze remained fixed on the world beyond the glass.
“You don’t need to check in with me. I’m nothing to you,” she replied, her tone devoid of emotion, her words sharper than I cared to admit.
I hesitated, struck by the cold indifference in her voice.
I’m a fool to care for her. She lost her true love four weeks ago.
