Tristan

IT’S FUNNY HOW AT THE END of your existence all you think about is the beginning. The things you never got to do along the way. I’d always wondered what it would be like to sacrifice yourself for love. Today, I found out.

Serena’s smile flashes behind my eyes, and my heart squeezes. I don’t know how it happened, but she managed to maneuver her way into the deepest part of me. She’s destroyed me, and in the wake of my destruction, she’s become my salvation.

I hear shouting all around me, but it sounds far away. A groan comes from my lips as my wet, sticky body slumps against the ground. Warm arms wrap around me, cocooning me in safety. My breaths are coming out in sharp pants, and there is too much pressure on my lungs to breathe.

Every gasp hurts like my chest is on fire. The pressure is choking me, pushing and tearing at my existence.

Serena’s voice is at my ear. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay,” she assures me, as the blackness takes over.

 

Something soft and warm caresses my body in long, gentle strokes, leaving a wet trail in its path. A sponge, maybe.

“How is he, Ophelia?” Gage asks.

“The bruises are gone. His wounds have healed. Slowly, but they’ve healed,” my mother replies. “His broken ribs punctured his lung, but that, too, has mended itself.”

“That’s good news,” Gage exhales.

A soft hand brushes across my forehead. “It is.”

“He protected her, with his life,” Gage states.

“I know, Gage.” My mother’s tone is sad.

“He loves her, Ophelia,” Gage continues.

“Sometimes in life, love must be sacrificed for peace.”

“The princess I used to know would have chosen love over her royal obligations, Ophelia,” Gage points out.

My mother sighs. “The queen sitting before you knows better. Love doesn’t bring peace. Love doesn’t save realms. Treaties do. Power does. Sacrifices have to be made. Tristan understands and respects the way of our world. After Camilla, Gage, you should understand how deadly and foolish it is to choose love and forsake all else.”

Silence fills the air.

“Even if it meant war, I’d sacrifice everything to have one more minute with Camilla. To tell her that I love her. To hear her laugh. See her smile. To feel her touch. Or taste her lips. I’d choose those sixty seconds over a lifetime of peace,” Gage’s voice cracks. “Any day of the week.”

“Why is that?” my mother whispers.

“Love is peace. Death is war,” he replies, and I hear his footsteps retreat.

A little while later, my mother kisses my cheek and moves her mouth closer to my ear so she can whisper.

“This isn’t the end of your story, it’s just the beginning.”

Serena

I slowly move through the large tent, pretending that breathing is easy. The façade of happiness is firmly etched across my expression as the eyes in the room follow my every move with morbid curiosity.

Huge white flowers hang from the ceiling, draping the entire gala in an elegant white canopy.

The tent’s walls are open, allowing for the warm breeze to float through. With each light gust of wind, the hanging vines sway as though they’re dancing with one another.

Strewn about the gala are large vases and balls made of white flowers classily highlighted by crystal chandeliers.

This year’s Summer Solstice Gala has a white party theme, and it’s simply breathtaking.

“Hey, Princess,” Ethan whispers in my ear, and I turn.

He and Lucas are dressed in matching white tuxedos.

“Don’t you gentlemen look dapper this evening?”

“Save us a dance?” Lucas pouts adorably.

“I always do.” I return his pout with a seductive wink.

“Where is Magali?” Ethan asks.

“Dancing with her date.” I point to my best friend.

Zander dips Mags for the third time, and she giggles. From her upside-down position, she waves at us. I smile and shake my head at how silly they are together. Over the past month, they’ve gotten really close.

It’s nice to see her so happy.

Ireland and Ryker join us, and Ryker hands me a glass of champagne so that we can toast to summer.

I take a sip and continue to scan the room for the one being that I need and want to see more than breathing.

On cue, the lights dim, infusing the tent in an amber hue.

I lock eyes with Tristan as he makes his way toward me.

Everything fades away and suddenly, it’s just him and me. His grin is wide and unapologetic as he approaches. I love the way his eyes darken when he looks at me. A lazy, seductive look crosses his face, the one that always makes me weak in the knees.

“Hi,” he says in a hoarse voice.

“Hi, yourself.” I try not to burst into tears at the sight of him, standing and completely healed.

“I notice you’re without a date this evening.”

“It’s a long story. I was supposed to come with this guy, but he got into this incredibly brutal fight a few days ago. He went all alpha caveman and beat some dude with a stick. He’s been on bed rest since then, healing.”

Tristan grimaces. “Sounds like an asshole.”

“Oh, he is,” I laugh.

“You should up your standards,” he suggests.

“Did I mention he’s also engaged?” I add.

“Definitely not fake boyfriend material,” he teases.

“Nope. That means I’m free. If you’d like to dance.”

“I would be honored,” he holds his hand out.

I take it and let him lead me to the dance floor. Tristan pulls me closer, and we sway to the music.

“You look beautiful,” he says near my ear.

“Thank you,” I whisper into his shoulder.

“Have you ever walked through someone’s personal space and looked at their framed photographs?” he asks.

I look up at him. “Yes. Why?”

“It’s rare to see rain in a photo,” he surmises.

“I never thought about it.” Until now.

“There’s always a storm, Serena. The rain will always come, and when it does, I’ll think of you now. The rain is my framed photo of you. With every drop of water, I’ll close my eyes and remember our first encounter. The one where you were twirling across emerald fields, with your hands out, in the rain. That’s how I’ll remember you. Free,” he whispers.

A hard lump grows in my throat, making swallowing impossible. “That’s a beautiful memory.”

With his head, he motions to the back of the tent, clasping our hands together and weaving us through the bodies on the dance floor.

We step out to the patio, and I take in the sunset. The warmth of Tristan’s body presses against my back, and his scent wraps around me. He places a small kiss behind my ear and I shiver at the contact. Slowly, I turn and face him, rendered speechless at how handsome he looks in his white button-down shirt and black dress pants.

“Promise me something?”

“Anything,” he vows.

“Promise I’ll see you again.” I hold my breath.

“Even if it’s only in our dreams, I swear,” his tone firm.

I try to fight back tears, but one escapes.

The back of his knuckles brush over my cheek, wiping away the tear, and he grants me a small smile.

“Listen to me carefully. Tonight, I’m going to let you go. Not because I want to, but because I have to. I will take care of you. Even if it’s from afar. I’ll dream of you every damn night. I’ll remember you, always,” he says slowly.

My heart thuds against my chest.

“I will never regret you, raindrop.”

I search his eyes. He may as well have said he loves me, because his words have the same effect on me.

He takes my hand and turns it over, placing the necklace he won in the battle in my hand, and then closes my fingers around it. He leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead, then drops his hands and backs away from me.

With every inch of space that he puts between us, I feel my heart crumble. I swear I can hear our hearts shatter at the same time as the universe rips us apart. As much as I know that he has to leave, that he isn’t mine, I’m a breath from falling on my knees and begging him to stay.

I wait until he’s gone to whisper, “Choose me.”

I wait until he’s gone before the tears fall.

I wait until he’s gone before darkness descends.

My hand tightens around the necklace I’m clasping, and a small pain pricks my finger, causing me to drop it.

I look down at the beads lying on the floor, and notice a small piece of paper hanging from the string. It’s folded origami in the shape of a lion.

As I undo each fold, the tiny mark behind my ear burns.

Like it’s coming to life.

When I’ve finished, I flatten the small note out in my palm and read Tristan’s words.

The Sun of Vergina is our cessation.