Dawn crept through the curtains like an unwelcome guest, painting everything in shades of grey and gold.
Annabella woke slowly, consciousness returning with the weight of what she had to do.
For a moment, just one precious moment, she let herself pretend. Pretend that today was just another morning. That she could wake up beside Rea every day for the rest of her life. Then reality crashed back in, and the pretense shattered. She looked down at Rea, still lost in sleep. Her face was peaceful, lips slightly parted, white and ginger hair spilling across the pillow. Beautiful. So heartbreakingly beautiful it made Annabella's chest physically ache.
*I'm sorry,* she thought. *I'm so sorry.*
She shifted to sit up, and that's when she noticed. Dried blood spots on the pale sheets. Small russet stains against white linen. She looked down at her own body and saw more, faint streaks along her inner thighs, dried now but unmistakable. Her breath caught.
So that's what the fertility spell had been doing all along. Not just preventing pregnancy, but preventing complete deflowering. Preserving her virginity intact even as they'd made love countless times before last night. The magic had kept her body technically untouched, a barrier neither of them had fully understood.
All those arguments. All that time Annabella had ranted about the spell being defective in nature, feared it would fail. She'd worried constantly that Rea's dual essence—two different magics warring within her—would make the spell even more unstable, more likely to break. And Rea had soothed her fears, promised her it was working, that they were safe.
Turns out, Rea had been right.
She'd wasted that time on caution and fear.
A bitter laugh caught in her throat, coming out as something closer to a sob. She pressed her hand over her mouth, forcing herself to breathe, to stay quiet. She couldn't wake Rea.
Not yet.
Not when what came next would break both their hearts.
Annabella raised her hand, and purple light began to gather at her fingertips.
It swirled like smoke, like stardust, casting violet shadows across Rea's sleeping face. The magic hummed through her veins, responding to her will even as her heart screamed in protest.
Her eyes shifted—pupils drowning in that same luminous purple until they glowed like amethysts catching firelight.
She leaned down, hovering over Rea's lips her hands above Rea's Heart.
"Forgive me," she whispered, so quietly the words were almost soundless.
Then she kissed her. The spell flowed from her mouth to Rea's, gentle as a lover's touch, ruthless as a blade.
She felt the magic take hold, felt Rea's breathing slow and deepen, felt her sink into an enchanted sleep that would hold her prisoner for days. Rea didn't stir. Didn't fight. She simply... stopped. Frozen in peaceful slumber, completely unaware that the woman she loved was destroying them both to save her.
Annabella's forehead dropped to Rea's, tears finally spilling free to fall onto Rea's cheeks like rain. "I love you," she whispered brokenly, her voice raw and ragged with grief. "I could never choose to love another! Never." Her voice cracked. "Not in this lifetime or any other."
Rea's face remained serene. Untouched by the confession. If the stars could cry they would.
Annabella pressed one more kiss to her forehead, her lips trembling. Then she forced herself to pull away. Every instinct screamed at her to stay. To crawl back into bed, to wake Rea, to run away together and damn the consequences. But she'd seen what those consequences would be.
She'd seen the vision of Rea's death—brutal, bloody, inevitable—if Annabella didn't do this.
So she stood. Her legs shook, but she stood. The bathroom door closed behind her with a soft click that sounded like a cell door locking. She sank into the bath, letting the water envelope her, wash away the blood, the evidence, the physical marks of their final night together.
But the ache inside her only deepened, spreading like poison through her veins.
she thought distantly. *This is what it costs to save someone you, Reagan. "
When she emerged, skin pruned and eyes red from crying underwater where no one could hear, she stole one last look at Rea. Still unconscious. Still breathing.
*That's all that matters,* she told herself firmly. *Keep her breathing. Keep her alive. Even if she hates you for it.*
Annabella dressed quickly in traveling clothes, fingers fumbling with buttons and laces. She couldn't look at the bed again. Couldn't let herself think about last night or she'd never leave. Instead, she began walking away after leaving the ring on the table.
The training grounds were deserted at this hour. Dawn had barely broken, and the world was still caught between darkness and light.
Annabella stood in the centre of the sparring ring where Rea practiced every morning. She could see her so clearly, laughing as she dodged a strike, sweat making her shirt cling to her skin, that crooked smile breaking across her face whenever she caught Annabella watching. That smile had always been Annabella's undoing.
Now Annabella would never see it again.
She moved on before the grief could root her to the spot.
***
The library was exactly as they'd left it days ago. Annabella ran her fingers along the spines of dusty tomes, stopping at the section on magical theory. Her lips quirked despite everything. They'd almost made love here once, pressed against the shelves in the section about chastity being a greater source of power for mages. The irony hadn't been lost on either of them. Rea had laughed against her neck, hands sliding beneath her skirts, whispering that she'd never felt more powerful than when she was powerless against Annabella. They'd barely made it back to their room that night.
Annabella pressed her palm flat against the shelf, as if she could absorb the memory through her skin, carry it with her. Then she forced herself to keep walking.
The ballroom was vast and empty, their footsteps from last night's ball long since swept away. But Annabella could still hear the music. Could still feel Rea's hand at her waist, spinning her across the floor, both of them grinning like idiots because they were engaged and in love and the whole world felt full of possibility.
*We were fools,* Annabella thought, her throat tight. *Beautiful, hopeful fools.*
Love was never enough to save anyone. She'd learned that the hard way. But, for one perfect night, it had felt like it could be.
***
Finally, she stood outside Andrew's office. She raised her hand to knock, then paused, gathering the last fragments of herself and locking them away deep inside where they couldn't hurt her. When she entered, she was no longer the woman who'd laughed in Rea's arms last night. She was ice.
Andrew and Lyz looked up from their maps and travel documents. Andrew's face split into a relieved smile.
"Annabella! I'm so glad you haven't changed your mind." She didn't acknowledge him. Simply walked to the chair across from them and sat with perfect, rigid posture. Her face was a mask, utterly empty of expression. The transformation was startling. She still looked like herself, the blonde hair with its distinctive white streak falling like silk over one shoulder, those striking purple eyes that had made grown men stumble over their words.
But the warmth that had always made her glow from within was gone. Extinguished. She looked like a painting of herself. Beautiful but lifeless. A winter queen carved from ice and grief.
Lyz seemed unsettled by the change.
She moved closer, offering a tentative smile.
"Our journey should be simple. Just one stop along the way." She gestured to the map. "We'll pass near the Suspended Gardens. They're supposed to be magnificent this time of year. Perhaps we could visit? Take a moment to rest?"
Annabella nodded once. A single, economical movement. Nothing more. The silence stretched uncomfortably.
Tea arrived. Andrew poured a cup and approached carefully, like one might approach a wounded beast.
"What about Rea?"His voice was gentle, probing. "How did you manage it?"
Annabella's voice, when it came, was flat. Mechanical. Stripped of all inflection.
"She's under an spell that will keep her asleep. It should hold for at least a week on a normal mage but in her case, at most two days." Her voice cracked on the last word, just a hairline fracture in her composure, but she pushed through it with sheer force of will.
"You should check on her. Regularly. Make sure she's... comfortable." She stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. Without another word, she walked to the balcony, teacup cradled in her hands like she needed something to hold onto.
Andrew and Lyz remained frozen, staring at the open doorway.
"She's broken," Lyz whispered, and there was real pain in her voice. She loved Annabella too, in her own obsessive way. Seeing her like this was almost unbearable.
"No," Andrew said quietly. "She cannot afford to do so."