Page 29 of Semper

Alongside these was a fresh salad of exotic fruits, drizzled with a tangy, sweet sauce. For drinks, there was a deep red wine, made from the local vineyards that thrived in the isolated environment of Stygian Isle. The table was adorned with smaller bowls of olives, pickled roots, and dried fruits as well.

When I was alone on this estate waiting for her to be brought home, I never had a reason for such spreads, but now that she was here, I wanted a variety of options at her disposal. The leftovers would be sent down to the children we took in, which reminded me I needed to check on Arielle, the daughter of the man who had been foolish enough to try and sneak onto the butcher’s land, as well as her brother.

We began eating, the sound of silverware gently clinking against the fine China. I waited until she had taken a few bites, visibly more relaxed, before I reached into my pocket. With deliberate care, I withdrew the photograph Ambrose had brought earlier and placed it on the table between us. Lolita paused, her fork hovering in mid-air as her eyes dropped to the photo. It took her a moment, but then recognition flashed across her face.

Clarice and Melanie were captured together, smiling, blissfully unaware of everything that would come after. I said nothing, simply watching her as she processed the image before her. They must have felt like ghosts—figures from a past she didn’t understand but somehow knew she was connected to.

"You're still curious about them," I stated, breaking the silence.

She glanced up at me, her expression carefully guarded. "Does that upset you?"

Her question was soft, almost tentative as if she feared the answer. I took a sip of my drink, letting the silence hang between us for a moment longer than necessary. "Upset me?" I set the glass down, my eyes locking onto hers. "No, Lolita. It doesn’t upset me. They were part of my life, but that’s all they are now—a part of the past." I leaned forward, folding my hands under my chin as I watched her closely. "But you... you are my present and my future."

She held my gaze for a moment, clearly processing my words. I could see the questions swirling behind her eyes, but she was hesitant to voice them. I gestured toward the photo. "Clarice and Melanie were important to me once. They played their roles." I softened my tone for her. "Their place was meant to be temporary. You, on the other hand, were never meant to be anything but permanent."

Lolita’s lips parted; her brow furrowed. “They seemed like they were close."

“They were friends,” I confirmed, watching the flicker of discomfort cross her face. She wasn’t asking what she genuinely wanted to know.

The silence between us stretched, and then, finally, her voice came, quieter, more fragile. “Did... did you really do what you said to Melanie?"

There was no hesitation in my answer. "Yes."

Her expression froze, lips tightening as she processed the weight of my admission. I could almost feel the unease stirring beneath her surface, her mind struggling to reconcile what she knew of me with the brutal truth she’d just heard. "And Clarice still married you?"

I laughed. "Clarice is far from an innocent,deliciae. She was one of the most vicious women on this Isle."

She blinked, her long lashes folding down, confusion mixing with discomfort. "Why did you two... split up?"

"That isn't exactly how I would word it," I replied, leaning back in my chair, and watching her closely. "She slept with a male servitor." I let that sink in, not offering any further details. The truth was much more exciting, but she didn’t need to know everything—not yet.

“Shecheatedon you?" Her disbelief rang clear in her voice.

"I'm glad you find that so hard to believe. That certainly helps my pride,” I replied with a grin. "But yes, she did," I continued, my tone shifting, "You'll find that our people, our family, have very strong opinions on that sort of betrayal. Disloyalty, especially from someone like her has severe consequences."

"You didn’t...?”

"I didn't kill her if that's what you're wondering, but her time on this Isle has been limited. She’ll do what’s necessary soon enough."

Lolita was silent, her eyes fixated on the place where the photo had been. I expected hesitation, maybe a small nod or a meek acknowledgment of my words, but then, she surprised me.

“I’m not sure how to feel about being third," she confessed softly, her voice tinged with vulnerability, yet her gaze was steady, challenging in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

For a moment, I was caught off guard—something that rarely happened. I didn’t respond immediately. Her words hung in the air between us, a delicate balance of uncertainty and defiance.

“Third?” I echoed, my lips curling into a slow, calculated smile. “Is that what you think? That you’re just following in their footsteps?”

Her expression hardened, the internal battle playing out in her pretty brown eyes. She was struggling, torn between what she believed and the truths I was slowly unraveling for her. I stood from my chair, moving around the table with deliberateslowness, like a predator closing in on prey. My eyes never left hers.

“Clarice and Melanie were part of the journey that led me to you," I began, my voice low, the cadence of it weaving through the dimly lit room like a dark melody. “They were steppingstones, if you will. Pieces of a path that was always meant to end here, with us.” I paused before her, tilting her chin up with my fingers, forcing her to meet my gaze.

“You, Lolita, are exactly where I needed to be led,” I murmured, my thumb tracing the edge of her jaw, the touch a gentle contradiction to the weight of my words. Her breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, I saw the armor she was trying so hard to keep whole, begin to crack.

She exhaled sharply, her brows knitting in thought. I could see the turmoil—the part of her that wanted to reject everything, and the part that was dangerously close to believing me. The room around us felt like something out of an old, twisted fairytale—an ornate, gothic space drenched in shadows and history. The weight of the Isle itself seemed to press in on us, as though its dark pulse mirrored my own intentions. The flickering candlelight cast long, distorted shadows that danced along the walls, amplifying the gravity of the moment.

“If I had known you were out there,” I continued, my voice deepening with sincerity and possession, “you would have been as you are now—the sole other half of me. There is no third, no second. You’re not in line behind anyone.Youare it.”

The words sank into her like a binding spell, twisting their way through her conflicted emotions.