Page 68 of Where Shadows Bloom

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Page 68 of Where Shadows Bloom

“A violent one,” said Lope coldly. “There is no record of Françoise leaving this palace. And as for my theory, there is precedent for violent disappearances. The king was second in line for the crown and his father and brotherhappenedto pass at the same time—”

“Lope!”

My outburst made her freeze.

I rubbed my temple.Why couldn’t she let this go?“I’m safe here at Le Château,” I whispered. “I’mhappyhere. Can’t you see how happy I’ve been? My family is here, and I know you do not care for the court life and the dancing—”

“This isn’t about that; it’s yourlifeI fear for!”

“I am not in danger!”

“Justhoursago I battled Shadows out in the garden. I saved the life of another soldier. The monsters arehere, Ofelia. Right beyond your window.”

Hours ago? Shadows in the garden?Cold fear gripped my heart. But I had never seen such Shadows. And Lope... with each day, she was jumping at corners. Digging for secrets. More and more desperate for something that didn’t seem to be there.

I had always feared for her. Feared that either the Shadows or the unbearable burden on her shoulders would claim her. But now I feared something else entirely: that this dogged pursuit of danger would pull her from me completely.

“I haven’t seen any Shadows, Lope,” I whispered, my voice trying to soothe and instead coming out raw.

Lope flinched, like my words had been cruel. Her shoulders sagged. “You don’t believe me,” she murmured.

The heartbreak in her eyes made me want to turn back time, to fix everything, to paint over the entire conversation in gold. “You’re tired,” I told her, soft and sweet. “You’ve been so brave. Fighting Shadows foryears. And we’ve been traveling for so long. You’ve never once gotten torest, Lope, and all this peril and bloodshed, it can affect you—”

“Affectme?” she breathed. As she blinked, her eyes were glossy, and my stomach plummeted within me. “So you think I saw nothing? You think I’mmad?”

“No, Lope, that’s not what I—”

“I have protected you for five years,” she said. “Please... don’t you trust me?”

I clung to the bedpost for support.Trust, after all we’d been through. I was so tired of fighting. I was so tired of reaching out so desperately for her and her never taking my hand. “Lope, I have trusted you endlessly. Endlessly. I am asking you this one time to trust me, to come findrefugewith me. I am inviting you into my heart, but you don’t even let me into yours. You have written poems of love for me, you’ve lovedme, and you’ve said nothing, for how long now? Years?”

The angry flush from her cheeks drained away in a second. “You,” she said, her voice quaking, “you read my poems?”

Shame and horror made my whole body flood red-hot. No. No, no, no.

“It was an accident,” I said through trembling lips. “I only took a little peek.”

Lope dropped onto the bed, her eyes vacantly staring at the pale wall before her. “How long have you known?” she croaked.

Truth was the only balm I could offer. I hid part of my face behind the bedpost like a frightened child. “Since... since we first came here.”

Her fingers trembled as they dug into the satin of her breeches. “Those were mine,” she whispered. “Those weremine. My words, just for me. They’re all I have.”

Another lance to the heart. “All you have?” I asked in a small voice. “You haveme. We could—we could forget all of this and start anew.” I held out my hands for her, desperate for her to free herself from this dark haze of sorrow and let our love story play out. “Our feelings are out in the open now. We can put aside pretenses and just... be in love! Let everything else fall away.”

She did not take my hands. She did not even look my way.

She’d never been like this. Acting like she didn’t care for me.

I drew my hands back, holding them against the coldspreading through my heart. “Lope, I’m truly sorry. I’m... I’m certain Father could appoint you as court poet if you wanted. If I talk to him, I’m certain he’ll—”

“Your father is a wicked man,” she said, her voice low and dark as storm clouds. “What intentions could he have, lavishing you with gifts and drawing your attention from anything monstrous?”

I flinched. “Is it so impossible to believe someone would love me?”

Lope trembled, wrapping her arms around her middle as if she were going to be sick. “Is that love? Someone who will wait on you and give you anything you want?”

“No! No, what I want is family and home and comfort and beauty!” I gestured at the glorious room around me, each golden ornament twinkling in the light from the window. “This is all I’ve ever desired, and my heart is broken to think that you don’t want the same for me—”


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