Immortal Consequences(101)

Emilio blinked.

“Forgetting what?”

“I’m forgetting,” Olivier repeated. “My memories.”

And there it was. The one thing Olivier had wanted to avoid. The one thing he knew would break his heart into a million fractured pieces. That terrible, anguished look in Emilio’s eyes once the truth washed over him.

“No.” Emilio shook his head, denial twisting his features. “That…that can’t be. You can’t…”

“Afraid so.” Olivier masked his heartache with a shrug, leaning back against the wall behind him. “If I’m not crowned the Decennial victor, it’s bye-bye memories and hello eternity spent roaming the Ether.”

“How can you be so callous?”

The question pierced Olivier in the chest—a searing blade straight through his heart.

“Excuse me?”

“How can you stand there and act like all of this is some big joke to you?” Emilio sputtered. Whatever sadness had been clouding his eyes was replaced with an unfamiliar look of anger that made Olivier want to evaporate on the spot.

“It isn’t that simple—”

“Of course it isn’t!” Emilio shouted, his voice hoarse. “If you transitioned…if you were sent into the Ether…it would change everything. You would never—you would never be allowed to enter Blackwood again. You would never—”

“You honestly don’t think I know that?” Olivier shot back, the restraint inside him finally slipping, the mask falling away. When he spoke next, his words were laced with desperation. “You don’t think that this has been eating away at me? That I haven’t been drowning in my own misery? Knowing that I stand to lose everything? That I stand to lose you?”

Emilio flinched. The words rang out between them.

He stepped closer, his eyes softening. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because…” Olivier rubbed his face in exasperation. “Because I’m an idiot. Because I didn’t want to put this on you. I didn’t want to be a burden, to be something to be looked at with pity—”

“A burden?” Emilio choked out. “You could never be a burden to me. You are—you are everything to me. Don’t you understand that?”

Olivier felt his heart stutter—the most wonderful and glorious pain. You are everything to me. He wanted to tattoo the words onto his skin. Burn them into his mind. Hear them recited for the rest of eternity.

He gently cupped Emilio’s face before he could even comprehend what he was doing. Emilio seemed equally shocked, his eyes widening and mouth parting slightly. It suddenly dawned on Olivier how easy it would be to close the distance between them. How had he never realized how simple it all was? It was just a single movement. A tiny, insignificant leap of faith. A second of bravery.

But clearly the universe must have been conspiring against him, because it was in that same moment that Masika appeared beside them, chest heaving up and down as she attempted to catch her breath. Behind her stood Josie, Carter and Irene—all of them with the same panicked look in their eyes.

Olivier swore under his breath, dropping his hands from Emilio’s face.

“Impeccable timing, Masika.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she muttered, mustering an apologetic smile. “Truly. But…you two need to come with us to the garden. Now.”

46

Wren

August was kneeling. Shoulders hunched and hands pressed against the floor. He had positioned himself in front of the pile of letters, as though he had been combing through them. As Wren closed the door and stepped inside, he made no indication that he heard her. But she knew he was aware of her presence. She could feel it. That inexorable thread tethering the two of them together.

He slipped his thoughts into her mind, calling out her name once again.

Loughty.

“I’m here,” she said out loud.

The sound of her voice echoing throughout the hall seemed to be enough to break the spell. August glanced up, peering over his shoulder. He looked so tired. Deep bruises stained the skin beneath his eyes. A heaviness pressed upon his shoulders, as if he were being weighed down by an unseen force.

“You found me,” he whispered, the slightest hint of a smirk on his face. It was that same crooked grin she knew so well—that coy and mischievous look. But it was dimmer than usual, his eyes still clouded by a strained anguish.

She took another step closer.

“Of course.” She matched his smirk. “I always will.”

He returned his gaze to the letters. Wren crossed the hall until she was standing beside him.

“Did you know one of them?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No…well. No one who would have left behind a letter. The person I lost simply…left.”

Wren knelt down beside him.

“You never told me you lost someone to the Demien Order.”

August slipped one of the letters between his fingers, letting it fall soundlessly to the floor.

“It was a long time ago.”

Wren bit the inside of her cheek, contemplating whether or not she should pry. The truth was—she wanted to know about his past. She was desperate to finally chip away at that wall between them. If she could get him to open up to her, maybe she could get him to recognize that they weren’t so different after all. That all of that darkness, all of that anger and pain he was bottling up inside him, also lived inside her.