The General Who Took My Lantern and Broke My Heart Chapter 19

The General Who Took My Lantern and Broke My Heart Chapter 19

He had no umbrella.

Rain had soaked him through, his black clothes clinging to his body, making him look like a statue left out in the storm.

It was Bram.

He had been drinking. Even through the rain, Aveline could see it in the unsteady set of his shoulders and the wrecked look on his face.

He took one step toward her, then stopped himself.

“Aveline,” he said hoarsely. “Please. Just hear me out.”

Aveline stood inside the doorway and watched him through the rain.

Then she took an umbrella from beside the door, walked out, and placed the handle in his hand.

“Bram, I don’t hate you anymore. But I won’t love you again either. Go home.”

Bram gripped the umbrella until his knuckles turned white. Rainwater kept sliding down his jaw.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

After a long while, he forced out, “I know Rafferty likes you. I can’t compete with him. I can’t give you as much as he can. It makes sense if you choose him. But families like his are cold, Aveline. They don’t—”

Aveline shook her head before he could finish.

“He gave me the skills to stand on my own. Even if things go wrong one day, I can still live well by myself.”

Then she turned and went back into the shop.

Bram stood in the rain, holding that umbrella, staring at the door after it closed.

He stayed there for a long, long time.

Until the rain stopped.

Until the sky began to pale.

Only then did he turn and leave.

That night, Rafferty came by as usual.

He sat in his old spot by the counter and picked up the tea Aveline had poured for him, but he did not drink it. He only turned the cup in his hands, his tone sour.

“I heard someone came by today to stand in the rain and prove his devotion.”

Aveline kept her head down, working through the accounts.

“You hear things quickly.”

“Of course I do. I planted a man across the street.”

Rafferty sounded completely justified.

Aveline finally looked up at him.

Under her stare, Rafferty grew a little uncomfortable. He lowered his head, took a sip of tea, and muttered, “Fine. I’ll stop.”

A few days later, news spread that Bram had been reassigned.

The order came suddenly. There was urgent business at Frostbreak Station on the northern border, and he was to leave at once.

When Aveline heard the news, she was arranging spice tins on a shelf.

Her hand paused for half a second.

Then she continued as if nothing had happened.

A few more days passed, and Thorne came as well.

He did not enter the shop. He only had someone deliver a letter.

Aveline opened it.

The letter was short, only a few lines. He wrote that he was stepping down as keeper of the old rites and leaving to travel for a while. Before he went, he wished her peace, happiness, and a smooth road ahead.

His name was signed at the bottom.

Beside it, he had drawn a tiny crabapple blossom.

Aveline knew the same hand was behind all these changes.

She did not expose it.

She did not ask.

That fall, news of Rafferty Quillan’s engagement swept through Vesper City.

The letter came to the shop on Quillan stationery while Aveline was in the back courtyard, working over a new fragrance blend. Fine powder dusted the cuffs of her faded blue dress.

Aveline had just broken the seal when she looked up and saw Rafferty standing in the doorway.

For once, he was not dressed with his usual careless ease. He wore a dark morning coat, a pressed waistcoat, and a collar so neatly set that he looked almost uncomfortable in it.

But what startled her most was his face.

Rafferty Quillan, who could smile his way through any room in Vesper City, looked nervous.

Aveline looked at him and suddenly remembered so many things.

She remembered the first time he bent over the book table and pointed out a word for her.

She remembered those afternoons when he sat beside the spice shop counter and taught her to read.

She remembered how calm he had looked in that courtroom when he opened the state order.

She remembered the seriousness in his eyes under the moonlight when he said, I want to marry you.

Aveline smiled faintly.

She brushed the powder from her sleeves, stepped forward, and took the letter.

Then she looked at Rafferty.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I accept.”

For the first time all morning, Rafferty looked like he could breathe again.

Then he smiled—quick, unguarded, and so openly happy that Aveline almost looked away.