Chapter 81 - 83
Avara POV
Time marches relentlessly, grinding the three weeks I’ve spent here into the finest grains of memory. Only one week remains before I must return home, and I can already feel the ache of leaving. A part of me dreads going back, fears what it will mean to step out of this stolen idyll. If I let myself fall into the reverie of one more day, one more moment, I might never leave.
Botan has been persistent, his pressured coaxing masked by smooth words and pleading eyes. The documents—the ones that would tie me to this palace, this life—wait in his—or my—private office, but they’re not why I came. I didn’t come for sprawling grounds or luxurious halls. I came for him. I came to silence my mind’s doubts and let my heart’s reckless yearning have its say. Perhaps, just perhaps, something beautiful could grow out of something so broken—something pure born of the tainted.
Every day has been a tapestry of moments spent together, and with each shared second, the fantastical illusion weaves tighter around me. Yet today, there’s an unusual stillness in his absence. As I scrub dishes, much to Martha’s disapproval, I realize how much I hate the idea of others serving my whims—it makes me feel like a trust-fund brat like someone else I know.
After I’m done and I wipe my hands dry, I set out to find him. My search leads me first to the private office, where those cursed land papers glare back at me like an unspoken ultimatum. The silence is oppressive, so I retreat to the library instead, a sanctuary where I hope the weight of my thoughts might lessen.
I flinch at the sharp bark that stabs me.
Botan’s voice is thunderous but this violent tone and volume is one that scares me.
"The percentage doesn’t change—not even for the Iranians. You tell Coska we expect a full fucking load at the Peruvian terminal via the southern route. If not, the heads of his men will be shipped back in his own container."
My illusions crack, reality seeping through the fractures.
The moment Botan notices me, he stiffens, his expression shifting from cold calculation to something far softer. He ends the call with a terse word but the damage is already done.
I turn sharply but he’s already following. I whirl around before he can even reach me, my anger stopping him in his tracks.
"Just when I start to forget..."