enjoyebooks CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 42
POV: Sebastian
The palace feels smaller every day—rooms shrinking, corridors tightening, shadows stretching long and familiar like unwanted company. I have spent the last several days buried in council meetings, magical reports, guard rotations, and failed strategies. Nothing gives an answer. Nothing feels enough.
Henry is out there. William is out there. And my family—my wife, my sons—are slipping through my fingers like sand.
Maps litter my desk. Magical diagrams. Old runes. Rosemary’s notes. Maximilian’s war drafts. My own unreadable handwriting scattered in furious strokes.
I rub my temples. “Think,” I mutter to myself. “There must be a way to stop him. A way to keep them safe.”
A knock interrupts my spiraling thoughts.
I straighten. “Enter.”
The door opens slowly. Evangeline steps inside. My breath leaves me.
Her hair is pinned messily, her eyes swollen from crying, her posture rigid with a coldness that cuts deeper than any spell. She doesn’t greet me. She barely looks at me.
She holds a thick, blackened book against her chest.
I stand up immediately. “Evangeline. You’re out of your room.”
“Yes.” Her tone is clipped, polite, distant. A stranger’s tone. “I came to give you this.”
She places the book on my desk, avoiding my touch as if I’m made of poison.
“What is it?” I ask quietly.
“Knowledge,” she says. “Answers. Information that might help you stop Henry.”
She pushes the book toward me, then steps back, arms crossing as though to shield herself from me. I open it, scanning the heavy text.
“This book… where did you find it?”
“In the archive near the capital border,” she replies. “I went myself.”
“You left the palace alone?” I ask, panic rising. “Evangeline—”
“I took guards,” she interrupts coldly. “I didn’t need your permission.”
I swallow hard. “I wasn’t implying—”
She lifts a hand, stopping my explanation. “The book explains black magic curses and how they pass from one carrier to another. It speaks of three seals. Each seal breaks when the cursed bearer experiences something that shatters their soul.”
My throat tightens. “Shattering… like death?”
“Yes. But not only death. Trauma. Loss. Emotional collapse.” She looks away. “When Cordelia died, it broke one seal. The runes said it: one seal broken, two left.”
I nod slowly. “And the curse… passed to Henry.”
She doesn’t look at me. “He grows stronger with anger and hate. He wants revenge.”
A heavy silence stretches between us.
Evangeline inhales shakily. “I think Henry intends to break us all. And I think he will use William, or us, or anyone he must… to achieve it.”
Anger coils inside me—anger at Henry, at myself, at the fragility of everything I’ve failed to protect. “I won’t let that happen,” I say. “I will find him, Evangeline. I will bring William back. I will stop Henry’s curse before—”
“Before someone else dies?” she cuts in, voice sharp.
The words slice through me.
“I swear,” I whisper, “I will not let another life be taken.”
She stands rigid. Impenetrable. “Swears mean nothing when broken.”
“Evangeline…” I step closer. Too close. “I know you’re hurting. I know you blame me. I know I failed you in ways I may never repair.”
Her shoulders tense. I reach out… slowly, gently… my fingers brushing her wrist.
She flinches—but doesn’t step away.
Hope flickers in me—small, naïve, desperate.
“I miss you,” I whisper. “I miss you every second. You stand in the same room and I feel miles away. I want to hold you. I want to help you. Let me help you.”
Her breath stutters. “Sebastian…” For a heartbeat, her voice softens—just barely. She looks up at me, eyes glassy with grief. “You don’t understand how broken everything feels.”
I move closer, my thumb brushing her hand. “Then let me rebuild it with you.”
She shivers.
Our faces are inches apart. The air tightens. Her fingertips twitch—like she wants to reach for me. Like she wants to fall into my arms and let the world stop spinning.
“Evangeline,” I murmur, voice low, aching. “Come back to me.”
She closes her eyes.
In that moment, I think she will. I think she’ll lean forward, rest her head against my chest, let me hold her the way I’ve wanted to since the funeral. I think she’ll forgive me—just a little.
But then—
She pulls back sharply, breaking the fragile thread between us.
“No,” she says, stepping away. “Not yet.”
My heart lurches. “Evangeline—”
“I can’t,” she whispers. “Every time you touch me, I remember Alexandro falling. I remember the look on your face when you realized it should have been you. And I can’t breathe.”
I breathe out slowly, swallowing the pain. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She shakes her head. “Sorry doesn’t fix anything.”
“No,” I agree softly. “But loving you might. And I do—Evangeline, I love you more now than I ever have.”
For a moment she freezes, as though the words strike her in a place she doesn’t want to feel.
“Please,” I say quietly, “don’t shut me out completely.”
Her jaw trembles. “I’m not ready,” she whispers. “Maybe I won’t be for a long time.”
“I’ll wait,” I say immediately.
“You don’t get to make vows you can’t keep,” she replies.
I close the distance again—carefully, cautiously—just enough to let her feel my warmth.
“I’ll keep this one,” I promise.
She hesitates. Her hand twitches again—almost reaching for me.
Almost. But she steps back.
“Goodbye, Sebastian.”
She turns toward the door.
My voice breaks. “Please don’t leave like this.”
She pauses, but she doesn’t look back. “I gave you the information you needed. That’s all I can give right now.”
And then she walks out.
The door shuts softly behind her, but the impact hits like a collapsing world.
I sink into my chair, head in my hands, the book lying open on the desk.
She was close.
So close to letting me in again.
But grief is a wall I cannot force my way through.
Not yet.
I whisper into the empty room, “I’ll win you back, Evangeline. No matter how long it takes.”
And I stay there—alone—listening to the echo of her footsteps fading down the corridor.
Desperate. Determined. Still painfully in love.