Chapter Eighty-three
Chapter Eighty-three
Chapter 83
Lia’s POV
The fortress no longer felt like home.
Every hallway I walked through echoed with the sound of my own steps, the hush of whispers that seemed to trail just behind me. I could feel eyes on me, curious, cautious, questioning, as though they too sensed something was wrong. But it wasn’t the fortress that unsettled me. It was Edgar.
He was here, yet not here.
I’d watch him at breakfast, his hand wrapped around a cup of tea he never drank, his gaze fixed on the hearth instead of me. At night, his body lay beside mine, but his spirit seemed far away, wandering some shadowed place I couldn’t reach. He smiled less, spoke less, touched me with hands that trembled ever so slightly before pulling away.
And every time I asked, he told me the same thing. I’m fine.
But he wasn’t. And I couldn’t take it anymore.
This morning, I caught him again, slipping out before dawn. He thought I was asleep, but I had been awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rhythm of his breaths until he rose and left me alone. I waited this time, sitting by the window until the gray light of morning spilled over the hills. When he returned, sweat darkened his tunic, and exhaustion lined his face like battle scars.
“You’re hurting yourself,” I said as soon as he entered.
His head lifted, surprise flickering in his eyes before he smoothed it away. “I’m training. That’s all.”
“No, Edgar.” My voice sharpened. “You’re running.”
The silence that followed was heavy, pressing against my chest until I could barely breathe. He didn’t deny it, but he didn’t confirm it either. Instead, he turned away, stripping off his tunic with sharp, practiced motions.
I rose from my chair. “You think I can’t see what’s happening? You think I don’t notice when you come back every day with shadows in your eyes?”
His shoulders stiffened. For a heartbeat, I thought he would finally tell me. But then he muttered, “I don’t want to burden you.”
“Burden me?” I laughed, though there was no humor in it. “I’m your mate, Edgar. Your partner. What good is this bond if you wall yourself off and call it protection?”
He froze, his back still to me, fists clenched at his sides.
“Talk to me,” I pressed, softer now, stepping closer. “Whatever it is, I can carry it with you. But don’t shut me out. Don’t make me feel like I’m already losing you.”
His head bowed slightly, as if my words struck something inside him. For a moment, I thought he’d finally turn and spill everything he was hiding. But then he shook his head.
“Not yet,” he whispered.
My throat tightened. Not yet. Always not yet.
I wanted to scream, to shake him until the truth rattled free, but instead I turned and left, the sting of tears burning my eyes.
The rest of the day, I carried his silence like a stone in my chest. Elena found me in the courtyard, pacing restlessly. She studied me for a long moment before asking, “How much longer will you let him keep you in the dark?”
I stopped pacing, meeting her gaze. “You know something.”
Her lips curved into a thin, unreadable smile. “I know what silence looks like. It eats him alive.”
“Then why won’t he tell me?” My voice cracked despite myself. “What is he protecting me from?”
Elena’s eyes softened, just slightly. “Perhaps he doesn’t believe it’s protection. Perhaps he’s afraid of what happens when you know.”
Her words only deepened the ache inside me. Because I understood now, it wasn’t just that Edgar was hiding something. It was that he didn’t trust me enough to share it. And that cut deeper than any blade.
By the time night fell, I could no longer hold it in.
He came to bed late, his steps dragging, his face pale with exhaustion. I sat upright, waiting, the words already burning my tongue.
“Edgar,” I said. “This ends tonight.”
He froze in the doorway, eyes narrowing slightly. “Lia”
“No. Don’t say not yet. Don’t say you’re protecting me. You will tell me, or I will find out myself.”
His jaw tightened. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is,” I countered, rising to my feet. “You either trust me, or you don’t. You either see me as your equal, or as someone too fragile to bear the truth. Which is it, Edgar?”
He said nothing.
The silence between us grew unbearable, stretching taut like a bowstring. I could feel the bond pulling at me, tugging with his every unspoken thought, his every swallowed word. And yet he stood there, silent, choosing the walls he had built instead of the woman who stood before him.
My chest ached. My hands trembled.
Finally, I whispered, “I love you. But if you keep shutting me out, love won’t be enough.”
I pushed past him then, needing space before I drowned in the weight of his silence. Behind me, I thought I heard him whisper my name, soft and broken, but I didn’t turn back.
That night, I didn’t sleep. I sat by the window, staring at the moonlight spilling across the stone floor, my heart splitting between fury and sorrow.
Something was breaking between us. And unless he spoke soon, I feared it would shatter beyond repair.