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“Iscairn…”
“Your brother was right about one thing—I am a monster, Ophelia. Perhaps not the sort he imagined, but a monster all the same.”
She begins to protest, but I shake my head.
“Please, Ophelia. I need you to understand.” I turn towards her, searching her eyes. “I knew what becoming like me would mean for you, the hunger you would endure and the souls you would have to take simply to survive, yet I offered it to you all the same. And while you lay there in the dark, trusting me to help you, I waited for you to say yes.” I struggle to keep my voice steady. “I have told myself that I acted out of mercy, and I did want to save you. Of course I did. But there was another reason, one I am ashamed to admit mattered so much.”
Fresh tears slip down my cheeks.
“I wanted you to live, Ophelia. But more than anything, I wanted you to live with me.”
For a while, she says nothing, though her fingers remain wrapped around mine. Then she sets her cup upon the table with a little clack and turns towards me, her brow furrowing.
“Well, that’s not quite how I remember it.”
I look at her, my own brow knitting in turn, and she leans forward to catch hold of my tunic.
“For a start, I’d known what you were for weeks before any of that happened. We’d been working together, Iscairn. I’d seen what you could do with soulglimmer, and when I fell ill, you used it to help me before we could lance my buboes. You weren’t some awful creature who convinced me to let you change me. I knew you, and I trusted you.”
“I know, Ophelia, but—”
“And then my brother went completely bloody mad, set fire to my apothecary and had me shut away beneath the church, supposedly so I could recover without you anywhere near me.” Her grip twists in my tunic. “Only I wasn’t recovering, was I? I was getting worse, and there was nobody coming to help me. I was so desperate that I split open my own buboes with a rusty coffin nail I’d wiped with my own spit.” She pauses, raising her brows. “Does that sound like a woman who was particularly keen on dying?”
I shake my head.
“No, because I wasn’t. And yes, I begged you to take my soul when you found me, but that was because I couldn’t stand another moment of the pain. I’d spent all that time fighting to stay alive, Iscairn, and when you told me there was still a way I could, of course I bloody said yes.” Her expression softens, and the tension bleeds out of her hands. “I wanted to live. You didn’t make that decision for me.”
I lower my gaze to her fingers, still resting against my chest. “But I wanted you to accept regardless.”
“Well, of course you did, you daft man.” She releases my tunic and takes my hand instead. “You’d spent three hundred years alone, and we’d grown rather fond of each other. I’d have been a bit offended if you hadn’t wanted me to stay.”
Despite myself, a small laugh escapes me, though the guilt remains.
“I’m not saying you weren’t frightened, or that you weren’t thinking about yourself. Perhaps you were. But I don’t see why that should make everything else you did any less genuine. You wanted to save me because you cared about me, Iscairn. There’s nothing monstrous about that.”
She shifts closer, brushing her thumb over my knuckles.
“I know remembering Avis has brought all sorts of awful things back to you, and I understand why. But you can’t let what happened to her change how you remember what happened to me.” She looks at me firmly. “Iscairn, I knew what you were offering. You gave me a choice, and I made it. You don’t get to decide now that it was the wrong one.”
Her words carry me back to the darkness of the crypt, to the cold stone beneath my knees, and knowing that if she refused, I would have to watch her die.
“And I’d make the same choice again,” she continues, her expression softening. “I’ve got a good life here. I’ve got my medicines, a dispensary full of people who need me, and for the first time in my life, there’s something I can actually do about this bloody leg of mine.” She glances down at our joined hands, then looks up at me again. “And I’ve got you, which I’m rather pleased about, if you must know.”
“Ophelia…”
“What?” She raises her eyebrows. “Did you honestly think you were the only one who wanted us to stay together?”
I shake my head, and she smiles, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair away from my face and tuck it behind my ear.
“Well, there we are, then. I know you worry about the hunger, and what the years ahead might bring, but I’m happy with the life we’ve got, Iscairn. I don’t regret what happened in that crypt, and I’d rather like you to believe me when I tell you that.”
I look at her, at those lovely blue eyes still a little red from crying, and feel the beginnings of a smile tugging at my mouth.
“I do believe you.”
“Good.” She leans forward and kisses me, her hands settling against my cheeks as I draw her into my arms. When she pulls away, she remains tucked against me, looking rather pleased with herself. “Besides, I’ve only just got my bloody life back, and I’d quite like to enjoy it without you apologising for the next three hundred years.”
I laugh, quite unexpectedly, and she smiles against my chest as I draw her closer.
