Curse of the Wolf King - Tessonja Odette Page 0,88

resolutions you’ll never have yourself.”

He studies me for a few quiet moments. “Is that why you love to read so much?”

As his eyes bore into me, I realize I’ve laid myself bare. Shown one of my most vulnerable truths. “Yes,” I whisper. “I read to experience resolutions I, myself, have never had.”

He walks over to me, his gaze warmer with every inch he closes between us. “Is it worth it?”

My heart hammers against my ribs at his proximity. Memories of the earl-Elliot return to the forefront of my mind, making my lips tingle. “Is what worth it?”

“Experiencing pain that is not your own. Feeling joy and love and a happy ending that’s over as soon as you close the book. Is it worth it? Or does it only make reality colder when you’re forced to return to it? Would it not be better to feel nothing at all?”

I swallow hard. Why do I get the feeling there’s a layer to this question, with something lying beneath his words that I don’t quite understand? Whatever the case, I can only give him my truth. “Yes, it’s worth it. To feel nothing is not a life worth living. Yes, it hurts to return to the mundane after being swept away in a beautiful fantasy, but at least for a time, that fantasy was mine. It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t real, nor could ever be.”

“It can never be real, can it?”

I study his face, puzzling over his words. I have no idea what weight the question bears for him, but for me, it carries everything I’ve given up on—the belief that romance is true and men’s hearts aren’t fickle. A world where I’m not scorned by friends, and the people I love stand by my side. A life where I’m seen for who I am, not for who society wants me to be. The chance to be free. As I think it, I realize maybe it could be true. Maybe I do still have hope. Isn’t that why I made this bargain? Why I’m planning on moving back to Isola? If I can believe it’s possible to create the independence I need to free myself from social constructs…then could I learn to believe the rest could be true too? Could I…believe in love again?

It’s a dangerous thought, one I’m not yet ready to face.

Elliot watches me, awaiting an answer to his question. Again, I get that feeling there’s a layer to his words that I can’t see. One that feels both firm and fragile at the same time. One that—if I choose to unearth it—there will be no burying it back again.

So instead of facing it, I do something I rarely do in front of him. I put on my false persona.

With a casual shrug and a forced smile, I say, “Who’s to say what can or can’t be real? Now, show me which books you’ve attempted to read.”

29

I feel much lighter as I return to my room with a new book in my hands. After Elliot showed me the few titles he’d tried to read, he left me alone in the library to enjoy myself. I assessed each of the four books he’d pointed out, and settled on the one with the most well-worn spine. Even though the wear of the book could be attributed to the manor’s previous owner, I wanted to select the one Elliot has seemingly read the most.

Back in my room, I climb under the covers and turn to the first page. I enter the story, finding it very unlike what I normally read. There seems to be no pulse-pounding romance, no handsome hero, no heated scandal, which should help save my sanity for the remainder of the night. Instead, I find a bittersweet tale of an orphaned boy who meets an outcast street dog, and the bond that develops between them. I read late into the night, finding myself laughing and crying in equal measure. At the end, the dog saves the boy’s life at the expense of his own, and I’m left a sobbing mess.

With the book clutched against my chest, I turn off the lights and burrow beneath my blankets, feeling a deep throb in my heart that’s both sharp and warm at once. No wonder Elliot hates books after reading this one. The books I read have happy endings, not…whatever this is. Then again, I could never wish to erase what this story has given me, for alongside loss came growth and love