With a sharp motion, Qhuinn took off his jacket and let it land on the floor. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Luchas put his hands over his face. “How can you say that … after all the cruelty in our household…”
“Not your doing. That was the ’rents.”
“I participated.”
“You apologized.”
At least that was one thing he’d done right. “Qhuinn, let me go. Please. Just let me … go.”
The silence lasted so long, Luchas began to breathe easier, thinking that his argument had been accepted.
“I know what it’s like to not have hope,” Qhuinn said roughly. “But destiny can surprise you.”
Luchas dropped his arms and laughed bitterly. “Not in a good way, I’m afraid. Not in a good way—”
“You’re wrong—”
“Stop—”
“Luchas. I’m telling you—”
“I’m a fucking cripple!”
“So was I.” Qhuinn pointed to his eyes. “All my life.”
Luchas turned away, staring at the cream-colored wall. “There’s nothing you can say, Qhuinn. It’s over. I’m tired of fighting for a life I don’t want.”
Another silence stretched out. Eventually, Qhuinn cursed under his breath. “You just need to feed and get your strength back—”
“I will e’er refuse her vein. You might as well accept this now and not waste any further time on arguments I find unpersuasive. I am done.”
As Selena waited in the corridor, exhaustion cloaked her in heavy folds that were no less real for being invisible.
And yet she was antsy. Fidgeting with her robing, her hair, her hands.
She did not like time that was unconsumed by her duties. With nothing to occupy herself, her thoughts and fears became too loud to contain within her skull.
And yet she supposed there was a utility in this solitude. If she could stand to take advantage of it.
What she needed to do as she stood out here was practice her good-bye. She should try to compose the words she wanted to speak before she ran out of time. She should get up the courage that was going to be required to say aloud that which was in her heart.
She was going to follow through on the impulse to tell Trez good-bye.
Of the many people she would leave behind, the Primale and her Chosen sisters, the Brothers and their shellans, Trez was the one whom she mourned already. Even though she hadn’t seen him in … many, many nights.
Even though she hadn’t been alone with him in … many, many months.
In fact, after they had ended their … relationship, or whatever it was, he had all but moved out of the mansion. No matter what time she had come or gone, she had not seen him face-to-face, and only on occasion caught a glimpse of his big shoulders as he headed in an opposite direction from her.
That he was avoiding her had been a treacherous relief at first. It was going to be hardest leaving him, and harder still if they had continued their assignations. But lately, as her time grew shorter and shorter, she had come to decide that she needed to tell him …
Dearest Virgin Scribe, what was she going to say?
Selena looked up and down the corridor, as if the perfect little monologue might obligingly march on by, at a pace leisurely enough so that she could memorize it.
For all she knew, he had forgotten their time together. By his own admission, he was well versed in finding female diversions of the human variety.
No doubt he had wiped the slate well clean.
And then there was the reality of him being promised to another.
She dropped her head into her hands. For her entire life, she had taken comfort and purpose from her sacred duty—so it was a shock to discover that as she drew closer and closer to her demise, the one thing she was driven to get right was her departure from a male who was not her own. With whom she had had an affair of the very shortest duration.
There had been many nights that she had spent in her bedroom up at the Great Camp, attempting to convince herself that what had happened with Trez was pure folly, but now, as time was running out? A strange clarity was focusing her. It mattered naught the why. Only that she accomplished the goal of telling him how she felt before she died.
She did not want to approach him too soon, however—rather embarrassing to pour out her soul to a potentially indifferent vessel and then linger for nights, weeks, months.
If only her expiration came with a date, as if she were a carton of milk—
Qhuinn emerged from the hospital room, and the tight expression on his harsh face cleared away her tangle of preoccupation.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “He is refusing again?”
“I can’t get through to him.”