The opportunity came sooner than I expected. Alexander found me in the library late the next afternoon, a strange tension in his posture that immediately put me on alert.

  "Are you busy?" he asked.

  I set down the tome on consciousness theory I'd been struggling through. "Never too busy for you. What's wrong?"

  "Nothing's wrong. I just..." He paused, seeming to wrestle with something internal. "Would you join me for a walk? There's something I'd like to show you."

  My heart kicked into overdrive. Was this it? Was he finally going to say something about what hung unspoken between us?

  "Of course."

  We walked through the gardens as evening shadows lengthened, neither of us speaking. The silence felt weighted, expectant. Alexander's hands were clasped behind his back, his expression distant.

  "Alexander?" I finally ventured. "You said there was something you wanted to show me?"

  "Yes. This way."

  He led me to a part of the estate I hadn't explored yet—past the formal gardens to a small hill overlooking the surrounding countryside. At its peak stood a stone bench beneath a gnarled oak tree, clearly old and weathered by time.

  "This was Lucia's favorite spot," Alexander said quietly. "She'd come here to think when her research frustrated her. Said the perspective helped clear her mind."

  I settled onto the bench beside him, close but not touching. "It's beautiful."

  "She used to say that too." He was quiet for a moment, then: "Eliana, I... there's something I need to tell you. About the curse, about what we're trying to accomplish, about—" He stopped, jaw clenching. "No. That's not right either."

  "Alexander." I turned to face him. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that."

  "Can I?" His laugh was bitter. "You're so young, Eliana. So full of potential and life. And I'm... I'm a man with one foot already in the grave, bound by a curse I can't break, dragging you into dangers you never asked for."

  "I chose this," I said firmly. "I chose to help you. I chose to stay. You didn't drag me into anything."

  "But if I told you everything I'm feeling, everything I want—would that be fair to you? Or would it be just another way of trapping you here, making you feel obligated?"

  My breath caught. "What are you feeling?"

  He turned to look at me directly, and the intensity in his eyes made me forget how to breathe. "I'm feeling things I have no right to feel. Wanting things I have no right to want. You came here to assist with research, to learn magic, and instead I've made you the center of my entire world. That's not fair to you."

  "What if I want to be the center of your world?" The words came out barely above a whisper.

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  Pain flickered across his face. "Don't say that."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I'm cursed, Eliana. Because in a year or less I might not exist anymore. Because letting yourself care for someone who might disappear is..." He stood abruptly, pacing away from the bench. "It's cruel. To both of us."

  I stood too, moving to face him. "So what? We're supposed to pretend we don't feel anything? Keep everything professional and distant?"

  "It would be wiser."

  "Since when have we been wise?" I reached for his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, he let me take it. "Alexander, I know about the curse. I know the risks. And I'm choosing to be here anyway. That should tell you something."

  "It tells me you're too kind for your own good. Too compassionate to walk away when someone needs help."

  "Or maybe," I said, looking up at him, "it tells you that what I feel for you goes beyond kindness or compassion. Maybe it tells you that I—"

  "Don't." His free hand came up to cup my cheek, stopping the words. "Please don't say it. Not yet. Not until..." He closed his eyes briefly. "Not until I have something more than uncertainty to offer you."

  I found myself thinking of the other times he'd begun to speak and faltered—the half-words in the library and the study, and that night at the gathering when he called someone 'important'—and they made this moment ache all the more.

  The rejection stung, even though I understood his reasoning. "So we just wait? Keep pretending?"

  "Not pretending. Just... waiting for the right time. For when I can speak freely without the shadow of the curse hanging over every word." He stepped back, though his hand lingered on my face a moment longer. "Is that too much to ask?"

  I wanted to say yes. Wanted to push him, to make him confess whatever he was holding back. But the pain in his eyes stopped me. This was hurting him too.

  "No," I said softly. "It's not too much to ask. I can wait. As long as you need."

  Relief and gratitude warred in his expression. "Thank you. I promise, when this is over, when the curse is broken—I'll tell you everything. Everything I've been holding back."

  "I'll hold you to that."

  ---

  We stayed on the hill as the sun set, watching stars emerge one by one. Alexander told me about the constellations from this world, so different from the ones I'd known in my past life. I told him about Earth's myths, about how humans had always looked to the stars for meaning.

  "Do you miss it?" he asked eventually. "Your old world?"

  "Sometimes. The technology, the convenience. Certain foods." I smiled. "But I don't miss the loneliness. That feeling of being disconnected, of going through motions without purpose."

  "And you have purpose here?"

  "I have you." The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I felt my face heat. "I mean, I have this work. This challenge. Something that matters."

  He was quiet for a long moment. "You have me," he finally said, so softly I almost missed it. "For whatever that's worth."

  "It's worth everything."

  We sat in companionable silence as full dark fell, and despite the unsaid confessions, despite the frustration of words held back, I felt strangely at peace. We'd get there eventually. To that place where we could speak freely, where the curse didn't loom over every conversation.

  We just had to break it first.

  One impossible task at a time.

  ---

  Walking back to the manor later, our hands brushed and then caught, fingers interlacing naturally. Neither of us commented on it, but I felt the warmth all the way to my bones.

  "Eliana?" Alexander said as we reached my door.

  "Yes?"

  "Thank you. For understanding. For being patient with me."

  I squeezed his hand. "Always. For as long as it takes."

  He kissed my forehead goodnight—a gesture that was becoming familiar, achingly sweet—and left me standing in my doorway, watching him walk away.

  One more day, I told myself. One more day of waiting.

  But at least now I knew for certain: I wasn't alone in these feelings. Whatever Alexander was holding back, it mattered to him as much as my unspoken confession mattered to me.

  That would have to be enough. For now.