~ ROSELLE ~

A few minutes after Nikolai leaves, Ronan strolls in.

My heart lurches in my chest as I take him in. He looks like a complete mess. Even though he seems to have showered, his eyes are puffy, with dark circles beneath them, as though he hasn’t slept in days.

"Good morning. I... I only came to grab my things. I’ll be out of your way in a jiffy," he says quietly, avoiding my gaze as he walks toward his walk-in closet.

I slowly rise from the desk where I’d been pretending to write, my mind racing as I search for the right words. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was scared. None of them sound good enough.

Goddess... his scent wraps around me the moment I step closer, making it even harder to think. I don’t want this to sound like a pity apology. I need him to know that if I’m apologizing, it’s because I mean every single word.

Taking a steadying breath, I follow him into the walk-in closet.

He turns to face me, his gray eyes meeting mine. They narrow for a brief second before concern replaces the guarded look on his face.

"Are you alright?" he asks, then seems to catch himself. "Do... do you need something?" His hand hovers over a shirt, as if he’s torn between looking at me and continuing to pack.

"I..." My voice catches in my throat. "We need to talk."

He goes completely still.

"I already sent Nikolai to get you whatever you need," he says after a moment, keeping his voice calm despite the pain I can hear beneath it. "Did he reach out yet?"

"Yes, he did." I nod. "But that’s not what this is about. We need to talk. You’ve always taught me that communication is important... and I realized I’ve been making the exact same mistake I made with Mara."

I lower my gaze, shame creeping into my voice.

"I listened to fear instead of talking to you first... and I don’t want to make that mistake again."

I watch his eyes soften as they meet mine.

"Your mother reached out to me..."

His jaw immediately clenches at the mention of her, and I already know where his mind is headed. He’s going to storm downstairs, confront her, and probably forbid her from ever coming near my wing again.

"And you have to promise me you won’t do anything," I say before he can speak. "She’s concerned, Ronan. She’s your mother... and you’re her only child. I think I’d do the same if I were in her shoes."

I take a careful step closer.

"She married a king and gave birth to one. She knows the weight that comes with wearing the crown, and she’s doing everything she can to protect the son she brought into this world."

I swallow hard.

"You never told me about the last vial..."

He drags a frustrated hand through his hair.

"That’s my problem," he says tightly. "My burden to carry. I wasn’t about to dump that on you. You were still recovering, and I wasn’t going to make you feel like you were the reason my condition was getting worse."

"You should have told me," I whisper, my voice trembling. "You should have told me you were dying."

I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes.

"Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to this marriage in the first place."

My gaze locks onto his.

"You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met. And even if we don’t end up together... I don’t think a single day will pass without me thinking about you."

I take a shaky breath.

"I want what’s best for you... the same way you’ve always wanted what’s best for me."

My voice cracks.

"It’s going to destroy me if you die. Mostly when we fall so deeply in love... only for me to become another Louisa Clark before you even get the chance to truly live?"

A tear slips down my cheek.

"I don’t think I’d survive losing you."

For a long moment, Ronan says nothing.

He simply stares at me, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as my words sink in. His gray eyes shimmer with unshed tears, emotion flickering across his face.

I can see the battle raging inside him. One part of him wants to close the distance between us, pull me into his arms, and never let go. And maybe the other is terrified, terrified that loving me will only leave me broken when the curse finally claims him.

Then he takes a step forward.

"That’s not going to happen," he says firmly, his voice carrying absolute conviction.

He reaches out and gently cups my face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears streaming down my cheeks.

"I’m going to find a cure," he says, his voice fierce and determined. "Whatever it takes. I don’t care if I have to search every corner of the world, consult every healer and Seer and witch that exists. I don’t care if I have to make a deal with the devil himself. I will find a way to break this curse without sacrificing you."

"But—" I start, and he cuts me off gently.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "No buts. No what-ifs or catastrophizing about a future that hasn’t happened yet. We deserve a chance, Roselle. We deserve to fight for this together. We deserve to build a life without the shadow of the curse hanging over our heads."

He pulls me closer, his forehead resting against mine.

"And I’m sorry," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the vial. I’m sorry I tried to protect you by keeping that information from you. That was wrong. That was me making a decision for you instead of trusting you to make it for yourself."

He pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes.

"You were right earlier when you said I treat you like a child. But I need you to understand that it comes from a place of love, not control. It comes from the fact that you mean everything to me, and the thought of losing you is unbearable."

His hands grip my waist gently, holding me against him.

"But that doesn’t give me the right to keep secrets from you. That doesn’t give me the right to make decisions about your life without your input. You’re not a child, Roselle. You’re a strong, intelligent, capable woman. And you deserve to know the truth about everything that affects us."

A sob escapes my throat, and I bury my face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent.

"I’m sorry," I say through my tears. "I’m so sorry for what I said last night. I didn’t mean any of it. I was just scared and confused and—"

"Thank you for telling me why you were scared. Thank you for being honest about your fears."

He lifts my chin up, forcing me to look at him.

"Will you give us a chance?" he asks, and his voice is vulnerable in a way I’ve never heard before. "Will you stay and fight this with me? Not because you have to, but because you want to?"