Avow

CHAPTER 9

Every nerve in Tristan’s body was on edge as he stared at Nathaniel. “What do you mean we cannot touch?”

“I did not say you cannot touch. I said you should not touch. Not until we understand how your blood affects Scarlet or find a way to undo the blood connection between you two.”

They had left the inn that morning and all come back to Nathaniel’s estate when he’d insisted he needed to research Scarlet’s heart condition. And now Tristan stood in Nathaniel’s library and watched him comb through old books.

“It seems your immortal blood is straining Scarlet’s heart.” Nathaniel closed the book in front of him and moved on to another.

“Yes, but what does that mean?” Tristan said. “Is she sick? Is she weak?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. But that’s not a bad idea. I could certainly do a better job than that mumbling fellow you pinned against the wall the other day.” He smiled.

“Would you please focus, Nathaniel. How much danger is Scarlet in?”

He sighed. “I could be wrong. Her strained heartbeat might be nothing at all. But if I am right, your immortal blood might make her very ill. Perhaps even bring her death.”

Tristan’s stomach dropped as he whispered, “My blood might kill her?”

“Possibly. Which is why we must find a way to break the blood connection between the two of you—”

“The fountain potion.” Tristan was desperate. “That blue water you had—you said it negates immortal blood. If we were to have Scarlet drink some, would my immortal blood cease to thrive inside her chest?”

“Yes. And I’ve already thought of that. But that vial was stolen years ago.”

“Dammit!” Tristan began to pace. “Then we must find a magic peddler with more fountain water.”

Nathaniel nodded. “I will start asking around.”

“Does Scarlet know that our connection may be…harmful?”

“I told her just before you came in. She did not take it…well.”

Tristan turned to go find Scarlet, who was probably cursing herself into a fit somewhere.

“But until we find a cure,” Nathaniel’s voice stopped Tristan at the door, “or at least until we know how strong your blood connection is, you two should not touch. At all.”

Walking through the leaf-littered woodland behind the house, Scarlet let the sour mood she’d been biting back for the past few hours sink in. Not touching Tristan for an indefinite amount of time was preposterous, but not having a cure for his immortal blood—not having a way to stay alive—was terrifying.

Hearing a twig snap, she turned to see Tristan coming up behind her, a dagger in each hand and a sympathetic look on his face.

Dryly, she said, “Better stay back, Hunter. I am apparently at the mercy of your immortal blood.”

“If it helps, I did not know I was immortal until after you died. It’s not as if I was keeping a great secret from you and allowed this to happen on purpose.”

He stood a generous distance from her, his pleasant countenance an odd contrast to her bitter heart.

“So you jumped in front of an arrow assuming you would die in my place?”

“I did.”

Her insides bubbled at his lack of self-preservation. “I do not wish for you to die for me. Ever.”

He smiled. “I make no promises.”

“Do not joke.” Her veins heated. “I thought you were dead once before, Tristan, and it was hell. And then you suddenly reappeared on my wedding day only to sacrifice your life—“

“You’re angry with me?” He furrowed his brow.

“Yes!”

Standing apart from him in the forest, in all the confusion of her new life, she grew furious. Furious with Tristan. Furious with all she’d suffered in her last life. Furious that her current life had not yet proved to be any less tragic.

“Why?”

“Because you gave me away!” she shouted, her fury turning into hurt. “You handed me off to Gabriel like I’m some plaything of yours and then you just disappeared.”

Wind rustled the trees around them as a muscle flexed in Tristan’s jaw. “I was trying to keep you safe.”

She scoffed.

“What was I supposed to do?” His green eyes flashed defensively as he dropped the daggers to the ground and took a step forward. “Let you get captured by the earl? Let you be harmed by his men? Was I supposed to let you die?”

Scarlet threw her hands up. “You certainly weren’t supposed to give me to your brother and fake your death!”

“I wasn’t giving you to him, I was protecting you! And I had no choice but to fake my death—there was no other way out. You can’t be angry with me for wanting to return to you.”

“I’m not angry that you returned. I’m angry because I thought you were dead!” Her eyes stung. “I thought you were dead, Tristan. And I was barely alive—barely breathing! I was half a soul and I wanted to die. I lost my home. I lost my mother. And then I lost you.” Her voice cracked as she thought back to the impossible sorrow she’d suffered without him. She shook her head and repeated, “I thought you were dead.”

For several moments, neither of them spoke. The forest air filled with wind and leaves and singing birds, but no words. Tristan stared at her with sadness in his eyes and rubbed a hand over his mouth.

“I’m sorry I ever let you believe I was dead,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry for all you lost.” He swallowed. “I swear I was only trying to protect you.”

Scarlet sighed, her anger and pain immediately gone with his words. “I know you were.” She blew air through her lips. “I’m just a mess.”

He smiled. “I like messes.”

Not yet ready to be in a good mood, she glared at him. “You don’t understand. Everything is a mess.” She started listing off her woes. “I’m lost and confused and I don’t know where I belong—or if I belong—anywhere. And now I might die, which is bloody perfect. I’m scared and angry and frustrated and agh!”

He stepped forward as if to embrace her, but stopped short.

“And you and I can’t even touch!” Scarlet groaned, tossing her head back in defeat. “My life is a complete disaster.”

He stared at her for a moment, a small smile playing at his lips.

“What?” she snapped.

“Are you finished?”

“No.” She glowered at him, desperately searching for something else to complain about. Finding nothing, she rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

Taking a deep breath he stepped closer to her and gave her a reassuring look. “We will find you a cure, this I promise you. It may take time, but I will do anything to keep you healthy. A wise monk once told me there is no victory without a battle.” He paused. “So we shall battle to find you a cure until we are victorious. And as far as not touching each other…” He shrugged. “Who cares? We can be together without touching. In fact,” he grinned as he bent to retrieve the daggers from the ground, “I have a no-touching plan.”

Scarlet eyed him skeptically. “A no-touching dagger plan?”

“Yes. It’s brilliant.” He handed her one of the blades, his eyes brightening. “We are going to spar. Since the point of weapon sparing is to avoid the other person, it’s safe for us to interact this way—unless of course one of us loses an appendage.”

“Well, naturally.” Scarlet turned the dagger over in her hand.

He leaned into her and his expression became very sincere. “And as far as where you belong…” He put a hand over his heart. “Right here. Always. In life and death and everything in between.” He paused. “Never question it.”

Never had a more peaceful feeling flooded Scarlet’s heart than at that moment.

He stepped back, his good mood lighting up his face again. “Let’s begin, shall we?” He weighed the knife in his hand. “I’m sure your dagger skills have grown rusty in your years away, so I’ll go easy on you.”

“Rusty?” She threw her dagger, handle first, into the tree beyond Tristan, pegging two overhanging leaves to the bark.

He smiled. “I stand corrected.”

Scarlet couldn’t help but smile back. She did not belong to anyone, but she belonged with Tristan. She was home.