Avow 3

by Chelsea Fine

  He ran a hand over his head and nodded. “Yes. Of course.” He moved to open the door, then stopped. “Oh. I almost forgot.”

  He retrieved a small object from the table beside his bed and set it in her palm, his dimples sinking into his cheeks as he grinned.

  Scarlet looked down at her mother’s brooch and blinked in surprise, her breath catching in her throat. “Oh, Tristan. How did you…?”

  “After Nathaniel said you might someday return, I went to your room at the castle and found it for you.”

  “And you kept it all this time?” She looked up at him in awe.

  He nodded. “I wanted you to have a piece of your family.”

  Scarlet kissed him, passionately and fully, as his arms gently wrapped around her. He’d hoped for her return. He’d kept a piece of her mother for her.

  He’d loved her for all these years, even through death and uncertainty.

  She was completely his.

  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.

  CHAPTER 10

  Six months later

  Tristan glared at Scarlet. “You’re doing it wrong.”

  “I’m not doing it wrong,” she bit out. “I’m doing it differently.”

  They both had been irritable all morning, snapping at one another and bickering. Tristan was starting to think that sparring with sharp knives might not have been a wise choice today. Especially since Scarlet—despite her stubbornness to learn new defense tactics—was incredibly talented.

  With his dagger raised, Tristan moved through the trees and swung down—precise in his movement so as not to hurt her—and waited for her to block him correctly. She didn’t.

  He rolled his eyes. “Would you at least try to learn?”

  She jabbed at him again. “I’ll try learning as soon as you try not being jealous.”

  And there it was. The reason for all their morning animosity.

  Tristan had made the mistake of telling Scarlet how Gabriel was cursed to be without love outside of her. And Scarlet’s emotions had gone wild in sympathy, anger, and love.

  She loved Gabriel.

  It wasn’t the same kind of love she felt for Tristan, entangled in devotion and desire and absolute resolve, but it was love nonetheless. And Tristan hadn’t taken it well.

  He blocked her incoming dagger with his own.

  “I’m not jealous.” He was a little jealous.

  “Ha.” Scarlet thrust her dagger at him again. “You practically accused me of being unfaithful with my emotions.”

  He blocked her blade and grimaced at her words. “Right. Well. It’s difficult to feel you care for someone other than me.”

  “Then stop feeling me.” She swiped at him.

  “I can’t turn it off—ugh. Quit trying to stab me, woman.” He knocked the dagger out of her hand then threw his own weapon on the ground.

  They stared at one another.

  “You’re being ridiculous, Tristan I love you. Not Gabriel. You.”

  “Yet you won’t marry me.”

  Months ago, he had suggested they resume their marriage plans, but Scarlet refused. That, along with her emotions for Gabriel, had Tristan feeling a bit crushed.

  She rolled her eyes.

  He said, “I was good enough for you to wed in your last life, but somehow I’m no longer fit to be your husband?”

  She thrust out angry arms. “Fine! Let’s get married! Let’s dance at our wedding and sleep by each others’ sides and have children and live happily ever after.” She dropped her arms. “We can’t have those things, Tristan. And if we don’t find a cure, I may die. I will not wed you only to die and leave you bound to me for hundreds of years until I return. I will not trap you into a lonely commitment like that.”

  She started walking through the trees.

  Tristan paced behind her, dumbfounded at her reasoning. “You think ‘commitment’ magically happens upon wedding vows? I’m already bound to you—and have been for years.”

  “Yes. And I am committed to you. Which is why I won’t marry you until I’m cured and no longer a burden.”

  “You could never be a burden.”

  “I’m already a burden.”

  “How?”

  She spun around. “You can feel my emotions. You can feel the most honest things inside me and it’s driving you mad!”

  “I’m not mad,” he said. “I just don’t want to share your heart with Gabriel.”

  “You’re not! My heart is completely yours.”

  “But you care for him.”

  “And I love you!” She looked incredulous. “Why are you so threatened by your brother?”

  “Because he can touch you!” Tristan yelled, his heart going hollow in sadness. “He can hold your hand and kiss your lips and dance with you and keep you warm. He can do all the things I cannot.”

  His chest tightened.

  “Hunter.” Walking up to him, Scarlet stood a breath away and stared into his eyes. “There is no replacing you. Not ever. But I cannot keep fighting like this. Every day is a struggle between us. I want to kiss you and slap you at the same time. It’s exhausting and it’s breaking my heart.”

  Tristan looked at the ground and nodded. “Then perhaps we should spend some time apart. Until you’re cured.”

  Anger and hurt flared inside her, but her face remained expressionless. “Perhaps we should.”

  ***************

  “Have you told Scarlet about your curse yet?” Nathaniel’s question caught Gabriel off guard as they waited for Tristan in the library.

  They had been actively searching for more magic water since Scarlet’s return. Nathaniel had called upon friends and acquaintances, Tristan had bought countless potions, and Gabriel had ventured to the harbors to see if word from the New World brought any news of the Fountain of Youth or its water. But nothing.

  “No.” Gabriel shifted. “And I don’t plan to. She is happy with Tristan. I do not wish to burden her with my loveless heart.”

  A quiet pang of jealousy shot through Gabriel. Ever since Scarlet had come back to life, his soul had been…more. Scarlet eased the emptiness inside him and, while he understood and respected her love for Tristan, he couldn’t help but envy her affections.

  But he was grateful for her friendship.

  He enjoyed spending time with her; introducing her to the current world and informing her of the history she had missed. She seemed pleased to live in such an advanced time, but disappointed that hunting had gone out of fashion. Tristan seemed to sympathize with her and Gabriel figured that to be perfect.

  Tristan and Scarlet spent nearly every afternoon in the forest, playing with weapons and returning in the late afternoon, usually arguing. The two fought as much as they swooned. It was obnoxious.

  “If you do not wish to tell her, that is your prerogative.” Nathaniel looked around the library. “I wonder what it is Tristan wished to speak with us about. Where do you suppose he is?”

  “He and Scarlet were arguing over how to make pancakes when I left them earlier, so who knows? They may very well be slaughtering each other with table knives as we speak.”

  Scarlet and Tristan stuck fast to Nathaniel’s warning and carefully existed alongside one another without touching, though they occasionally exchanged looks more intimate than any touch could be.

  Gabriel tugged at his collar.

  Striding into the room, Tristan said, “I think we should schedule a passage to the New World as soon as possible.”

  “And hello to you too,” Nathaniel smiled.

  “From what I gather,” Tristan went on, “it will take us approximately three months to make arrangements. Once we reach the wild land, we can begin asking locals and natives about the Fountain of Youth and find the damned thing ourselve
s.”

  Gabriel scoffed. “Right. We’ll pack up and travel to a land where everyone dies and there is no food. And then we’ll blindly hike our way to a fountain that may or may not be there. It’s a huge risk, Tristan.”

  “So is letting Scarlet die,” he snapped.

  Nathaniel held up his hands. “Perhaps a trip to the Americas would be helpful. I shall look into it and, if it seems beneficial, I will start making arrangements.”

  “Soon,” Tristan demanded.

  Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Why are you so eager?”

  “We are all eager.”

  “Yes. But Scarlet hasn’t shown any sign of illness so it is safe to assume she is still healthy.” Gabriel paused. “What has you so raggedly desperate?”

  “Because we have nowhere else to look and I do not want to waste another day without the cure. And also,” Tristan paused, “I can feel her.”

  Gabriel blinked. “What?”

  He cleared his throat. “I can feel her emotions and it is becoming hard to keep myself from responding to them.”

  The pang returned to Gabriel’s chest.

  “You can feel her?” Nathaniel said. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Since we found her.”

  Gabriel stared at him. “And you’re telling us just now?”

  “I did not think it was important before,” Tristan said impatiently. “We need to cure her and get her feelings out of me. Immediately.”

  Nathaniel twitched his lips. “Does Scarlet experience your emotions as well?”

  “No.” Tristan rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, “Thank God.”

  Well, this was just awkward.

  Nathaniel slowly nodded. “I will start making arrangements immediately.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Ten weeks later

  Scarlet was tied into a God-awful corset that cinched beneath a God-awful dress that billowed out around her in far too many layers of God-awful skirts.

  Gabriel had taken her to the tailor that morning.

  She still had not forgiven him.