Avow

CHAPTER 6

London 1613

Gabriel let himself into Tristan’s home and sank into the nearest chair, rubbing the side of his face.

“Please, come in,” Tristan said dryly, looking up from the knife he was sharpening in the corner.

“It is official, brother. Raven’s curse is real.” Gabriel sighed, trying to not let thoughts of the long-dead girl get the best of him. Seventy-three years had gone by since he’d taken Raven’s life, but he still carried guilt.

Had she deserved to die? Yes. But at his hands?

No.

It did not matter that being earl had given him the right to execute a criminal. It was still murder.

The only thing that seemed to offset his remorseful heart was the curse Raven had bestowed upon him. A curse, it seemed, that was far more effective than he’d originally given the silver-eyed girl credit for.

Perhaps a loveless life was exactly what Gabriel deserved.

“I cannot fall in love,” Gabriel said. “I’ve tried courting dozens of women and none of them truly fall for me. Oh, they will marry me. They will take my money and my fine food and my horses, but they do not care for me. And what’s worse, I feel nothing for them.”

“You have no horses,” said Tristan.

“Exactly! All these bloody women keep taking my things. It’s exhausting.”

Tristan smirked. “Is that why you spend all your free time in taverns and gambling rings? To soothe your exhaustion?”

Gabriel leaned back in his seat. “No. I do those things to distract me from the emptiness.” And the guilt.

Nathaniel let himself into Tristan’s house as well. “Good day! What are you two talking about?”

Tristan answered, “Well, Gabriel was just complaining about love—again—and I was wondering why I even bother having a door.”

“Ah, yes. The never-ending search for true love. Ooh! Food.” Nathaniel snatched a chunk of bread off a plate on Tristan’s desk and began eating.

“You do not know what it’s like,” Gabriel said. “I have not felt anything for a woman in decades. Decades. Not since—“

Tristan looked up as Gabriel swallowed Scarlet’s name. Even though a century had passed, Scarlet was still an uncomfortable subject between them.

Gabriel pulled at his ear. “It’s just been a long time since a woman has loved me and I miss it.”

Hoping for Scarlet to come back to life was a cruel game, and Gabriel had quit playing long ago. Tristan, however, lived for the cruelty.

Scarlet might not be alive, but her presence was; her memory was. And that was enough to keep Tristan hoping. God help his poor soul.

“It is a rotten curse.” Nathaniel nodded. “And also quite stubborn in its structure.”

Nathaniel had tried many counter hexes—all of which failed miserably and left sticky, smelly messes in their wake.

He wasn’t a very skilled wizard. Entertaining and knowledgeable, yes. But magical? Not so much.

Gabriel groaned. “Is this what my eternity will be? Empty of love and companionship, and filled with greedy damsels?”

“It could be worse,” Tristan said. “It could be filled with those who enter your house without knocking and eat your food.”

Nathaniel shoved a very deliberate piece of bread into his mouth and looked at Gabriel. “You have me as a companion. What more could you want from eternity?” He chewed with his mouth open.

“Something prettier,” Gabriel said, “and less disgusting.”

Nathaniel swallowed. “If it helps, I’ve never been in love either. I’m beginning to think true love might not exist.”

Tristan turned his eyes back to his dagger with an amused expression.

Gabriel sighed. “I am doomed.”

“No,” Nathaniel said. “You are cursed.”

“Are they not the same thing?”

“Not at all. Doomed means there is no hope. Cursed means you will have to struggle to find hope, then struggle to keep it, then struggle to undo said curse with the hope that you have kept.”

Gabriel blinked. “Being doomed sounds less taxing.”

“Indeed.” Nathaniel smiled.

“Relax, Gabriel,” Tristan said. “Do not be impatient for companionship.”

“This coming from the man who breaks hearts he’s never even met before. Women flock to you and beg for your attention, and you ignore them all.” Gabriel hung his head.

While Gabriel spent his days drinking and gambling, Tristan devoted most of his time to helping townsfolk. Providing food to the orphans, giving money to the churches, letting whoever and whatever find shelter in his large home for indefinite periods of time. It was truly impossible living alongside a brother with such a bleeding heart. And that bleeding heart was like a beacon for women everywhere, drawing them to his presence only to be sent away.

“It’s truly sickening, brother,” Gabriel said. “You, at the very least, should marry one of the poor girls.”

“Why, so I can lose my horses?” Tristan smiled.

“Yes! Then you could join me in my misery,” Gabriel said.

Tristan went back to his knife. “I have my own misery to bear.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

Poor soul, indeed.