Chapter 45: Things Unsaid

  They made their way through the pace corridors. Selene led the way, her heels clicking softly against the polished stone. No one keeping guard bothered to stop them. Instead, every door was opened as Selene walked past as if the pace was already hers.

  Darius trailed several paces behind. It wasn't done purposefully, but he found himself in a trance as he stared at the back of Selene's dress, taking in every bit of her. He had seen that dress before, under chandeliers and ughter, when music filled the ballroom — but now, stripped of sound and crowd, it struck him differently. The way the fabric clung to her every curve. How undeniably stunning her figure glowed in his candlelight. How her hair flowed back her back and shimmered like a curtain of the starry night. What was even more unbelievable was that she still looked ball-ready, even after the eventful night they had.

  He caught himself staring too long. He straightened his posture, tightened his gaze, and put more confidence in his stride. He could feel the sense of inadequacy burning in his chest and forcefully shoved it down. He quickened his pace, closing the distance between them until he strode next to her.

  “Where are we going?” he asked quietly.

  Selene gnced sideways at him. “The royal garden,” she said. “There will be fewer eyes there. So we can yell at each other as we please.”

  Her gaze held his for a heartbeat. That moment felt like an eternity. He didn't want to turn away, and luckily, the choice was not his, as Selene turned away. Darius looked down, drawing a slow breath to steady himself, careful that she didn’t hear the curse that slipped out under it.

  What’s wrong with me?

  The doors to the garden stood open ahead, snow curling through the archway. Selene stepped through first, and Darius followed.

  The royal garden stretched before them, hushed beneath a thin veil of snow. A few couples lingered among the hedges. The garden was quietly abuzz with couples talking in low tones, holding hands, and exchanging light kisses. The faint ughter of those who also came for a private, quick tryst in the snow-den royal garden filled the air like songbirds.

  They fell silent when they noticed her. Selene’s golden eyes passed over them one by one. No words were spoken, but the message was clear.

  Leave

  Within moments, the ughter died. One couple murmured an apology and left through the east gate. Another turned quickly down a side path.

  Soon, the garden was empty again, save for the snow and the two who remained.

  Selene turned to face him, arms folding across her chest. “So,” she said, “what is it you wanted to talk about?”

  Darius hesitated, the cold making ghosts of their breath between them. “I want to talk about us.”

  Selene’s ugh was soft, humorless. “There is no us, Inquisitor.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly. “I meant— our feud. Our... Whatever this is between us.”

  “That feud,” she said, “is coming mostly from you. I don’t think about you unless you’re standing in front of me.”

  Darius’s eyes narrowed. “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Pretending you don’t care about anything.”

  He stepped forward, his tone rougher now.

  “Every time someone calls you a witch, it's small, almost imperceptible, but your eye twitches. Every time I draw Devotion, you look at me like I’ve kicked your damn puppy. And every time Garran’s name is mentioned, your face—”

  He exhaled. “It holds such complex emotions, it's hard to tell if there's any at all.”

  Selene turned her head away, a sharp scoff cutting through the cold. “What could you possibly know?”

  “I grew up on the streets, until Garran found me,” he said. “ You learn to read people. Because if you don't, you end up dead.”

  She looked back at him, expression unreadable. “Apparently, you didn’t read me well enough,” she said. “Otherwise, Garran would have kept his head.”

  The words nded hard, but Darius didn’t rise to them. His jaw tightened. If this were a week ago, even just a few hours ago, he would have exploded. But he calmed himself, he had figured out her game, and he was tired of pying it.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” he said quietly. “Whenever someone gets close to seeing the real you, you say something cruel to drive them away.”

  “That’s not true.” Selene denied.

  “It is when it comes to me.”

  "That's because you..." Selene began to say, but held back.

  "I’m what? Too close to the truth? Is having someone other than your grandmother know the real you, that terrifying?" Darius asked.

  "I'm not afraid of anything.”

  He took another step forward, eyes steady. “Of course you're not. So, just once… talk to me. Honestly.”

  Selene stared at him for several seconds, silent, the snowfall gathering on her shoulders. Then she spoke.

  “What do you want to know?”

  Darius drew in a breath, closing the space between them.

  “Why didn’t you kill me, really?” he said. “And don’t give me that you think I’m attractive shit.”

  For a heartbeat, she said nothing. Then her lips curved faintly.

  “Well,” she murmured. “You are undeniably attractive. I thought that was your only redeeming feature, in the beginning.”

  Darius rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

  Her smirk softened — then vanished.

  “Fine,” she said, quieter now. “Do you remember the conversation we had in the ruins?”

  “I remember.”

  “You weren’t the first Inquisitor I had that talk with,” she said. “But you were the only one who humored me. Even if you disagreed, you didn’t try to immediately strike me down.”

  Darius frowned. “That’s the reason you spared me?”

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head. “If you’d had that same conversation with Garran, he would’ve humored you, too. He would’ve tried to convert you, if anything.”

  Selene ughed — once, sharp and short. “I doubt that.”

  Darius’s frown deepened. “What makes you so sure?”

  Her smile faltered, her tone hardened. “This conversation isn’t about us, is it?" Darius recoiled in shock as Selene stepped closer to him and poked him in the chest.

  "You talk about me, hiding myself. But what about you? You’re just looking for a reason not to hate me. And you hate yourself for it.”

  The words made him flinch. “What are you talking about?”

  Selene stepped even closer, her palm resting on his chest. Her golden eyes stared into his soul. “I’m observant too. You’re not the first man to lust after me. I'm sure you've noticed after your little fight in the square. I see the way you look at me. The way you hold your breath when I walk by." Darius flinched at her accurate observation. But she didn't stop there, "The way you steal looks when you think I'm not paying attention."

  Darius cleared his throat and tried to look away. Selene pressed harder still.

  "You don’t know whether you want to fight me or fuck me.”

  The word hit like a sp. Darius balked, caught off guard by her bluntness.

  “That’s… rather vulgar for a princess,” he said tightly.

  “Maybe,” she said, “but it’s well-suited for a witch.”

  Her tongue brushed against her lips, slow and deliberate. Darius let out a sigh of frustration as he tried his hardest not to obviously stare at her lips, and failed miserably. Selene ughed in derision, pulling away before she continued.

  “I know what you want. You want me to tell you Garran was a good man. That I selfishly took him from the world. That, after meeting you, I regret killing him. But I won’t say that. Because I don’t.”

  Darius’s hands curled into fists, jaw trembling. Before he could speak, Selene sighed. Her voice turned quiet,

  “But instead, how about I tell you all about your daddy,” she said. “He was one of the most vicious, unapologetic killers I’ve ever met. He sughtered anyone suspected of being a witch — children barely old enough to understand what they are doing, to those who were just desperately trying to protect those around them.”

  “That’s not true,” Darius snapped, stepping forward, but she cut him off.

  “That conversation we had in the ruins, Garran was one of those other Inquisitors I engaged in discourse with."

  Darius had a shocked expression on his face. Selene looked at the oh so familiar expression of ignorance and confusion. She folded her arms and continued.

  "It happened after I abandoned my hope of trying to work as a Saint. Not long after that, I met Garran. Though at the time, I wore a different face. He was hunting ghouls; I was nearby and helped him. He thought I could be a Saintess candidate. I told him I had absolutely no interest in working for the Sanctum. I tried to leave.”

  She met his eyes. “You can guess the rest.”

  Darius bit the inside of his cheek, anger burning low in his chest. “That doesn’t sound like Garran.”

  Selene tilted her head. “Did you ever really know him?”

  She stepped past him, her voice calm but heavy. “I ran into him more than once. Different names. Different faces. Every time, we cshed. Every time, we had the same conversation. He never changed. He was one of the main reasons I gave up hope for the Sanctum altogether. He was seen as one of the most devout and upright Inquisitors." Selen shook her head in disappointment and continued.

  "If that was your best, then there was no hope for the current Sanctum." The look on Darius' face was one even Selene felt in her gut. It was the truth she spoke; it was the truth she knew. However, that look of utter loss on his face cut her deeper than any words he had ever spoken to her.

  Darius didn't deny her words. He didn't shout that she was a liar. She had no reason to lie to him at this moment, even if she meant to hurt him; there were better ways for her to do it. Darius lowered his head,

  "I see." He whimpered out. What else could he say? His father contributed to Selenes' disgust and distrust towards the Sanctum. That was not something easily won back.

  Selene looked at the Sulking Darius, closed her eyes, and then stared into the sky above.

  "If I give him credit for anything, it’s that while he was a zealot. He was a true believer. Completely incorruptible in his mission and faith. I respected that.”

  She turned her sights back towards Darius, who didn't look much better, but there was a different look in his eyes now. One she couldn't properly put a name to. “So no, I don’t regret killing him. It was a death he was probably prepared for. The fact that he went to that ruin at all, when apparently it was Lucen’s mission, says everything. He probably thought waiting even for Lucen would waste too much time.”

  Darius stood in silence, the snow collecting on his shoulders, on his hair. His breath fogged in the cold.

  “When was the st time you saw him? Before the time in the ruins,” he asked quietly.

  “About three years prior.”

  Darius nodded slowly. “Then that was when I finished my training. When I joined his company, officially.”

  Selene looked at him for a long moment. “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” he said. His voice was low, rough. “And your words did reach him. Because the Garran you knew isn’t the one I did.”

  Selene’s expression softened, just slightly. “Really?"

  The question hung between them as the snow fell heavily, burying the world in silence. Selene looked at Darius, who stared back at her. His eyes were not filled with lust or wanting. It was filled with determination and pleading. Selene knew what that plea was; she knew what the man before wanted to say. Her face softened, and she finally spoke.

  "Then tell me. Tell me about this Garran I have no knowledge of."