The Villainess Wants To Retire

Chapter 135: Walls

The walk back to the cave happened in silence.Heavy silence. The kind that pressed down on shoulders and made breathing feel difficult, that filled the space between us with all the words neither of us was saying.

Eris wouldn’t look at me.

Kept her gaze fixed somewhere over my shoulder or down at her hands or anywhere that wasn’t my face. Avoiding eye contact like it would hurt her. Like seeing whatever expression I wore would make this worse.

I carried her through the waterfall, into the cool darkness of the cave, back to the alcove where we’d slept tangled together just hours ago. Set her down carefully on the furs.

She immediately moved away.

Crawled to the far side of the space. Put as much distance between us as the alcove allowed. Sat with her back against the frozen wall, arms crossed over her chest, defensive posture that screamed don’t come closer.

I sat across from her silently.

Gave her the space she clearly wanted. Didn’t push. Didn’t demand she talk to me or explain or acknowledge that shutting me out hurt more than her words had.

Just monitored her quietly.

Watched for signs of pain. Temperature spikes. Eyes flickering gold. Any indication that her condition was worsening, that the seal was fracturing faster than the nymphs had predicted.

As long as she was safe, I could handle the silence.

Could handle the distance. Could handle her being angry at me if it meant she stayed alive long enough for those walls to come down eventually.

Minutes passed.

Five. Ten. Fifteen.

She stared at the cave floor. I watched her stare at the cave floor. The nymphs hovered near the entrance, giving us privacy but clearly concerned.

The silence should have been bearable.

Should have been fine. I’d sat through longer silences. More uncomfortable ones. Negotiations that stretched for hours without a single word spoken.

This was different.

This wasn’t tactical. This was personal. This was the woman I’d carried through wilderness and held while she slept and touched in ways that made her fall apart now treating me like a stranger, like someone who couldn’t be trusted, like I hadn’t earned the right to care about whether she lived or died.

The distance was killing me.

Not the silence. The wall. The deliberate shutting out. The way she was sitting over there alone when she should be here with me, should be letting me help instead of carrying everything by herself like she always did.

I lasted maybe twenty minutes before I couldn’t take it anymore.

Sighed.hat everyone who’d known was either dead or had never cared, that I was the first person she’d allowed to see this part of her.

"I’m sorry," I said.

She looked up. Surprised.

"That you’ve had to carry that alone," I continued. "That no one helped you. That whoever bound that thing to you left you to deal with the consequences by yourself."

Her expression crumpled slightly.

Just for a moment. Just long enough for me to see how much it had cost her, carrying this secret, living with something divine and deadly sealed inside her bones.

"Don’t," she said. "Don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault."

"Then don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault either."

She shook her head slightly.

"I should have listened. Should have trusted that you weren’t just being overprotective without reason." She insisted.

"I didn’t mean to snap like that. To say it was none of your business when..." She paused. Swallowed. "When clearly it is. When you’ve done nothing but try to help me since we met."

Her gaze dropped.

Started drifting away again. That shy uncertainty I’d seen glimpses of but she rarely let show fully.

"I was only angry because you were angry," she admitted. "Because seeing you upset made me feel... I don’t know. Guilty. Like I’d disappointed you somehow."

I caught it.

The vulnerability. The admission that my opinion mattered to her, that my emotions affected hers, that she cared what I thought even when she pretended not to.

A smile tugged at my lips despite the seriousness of the conversation.

"You’re adorable when you’re shy," I said.

Her eyes snapped back to mine.

Glaring now. "I’m not shy."

"You are." I pulled her closer. Eliminated what little space remained between us. "You’re avoiding my eyes while apologizing. That’s shy behavior."

"I’m not—"

I leaned in.

Close enough that our lips almost touched. Close enough that she had to stop talking or risk closing that final distance herself.

"You’re so cute Your Majesty," I murmured against her mouth, "when you try to act tough after showing me you’re soft underneath."

Her breath hitched.

Face flushing that gorgeous color that meant she was flustered and didn’t know how to handle it, that meant I’d gotten past her defenses and hit something real.

"You’re such a pain," she whispered.

No conviction in it. Just automatic response. The thing she said when I made her feel things she didn’t have names for yet.

"Liar," I whispered back.

And pulled her fully against me, wrapping my arms around her, holding her close enough that she couldn’t escape even if she wanted to.

She didn’t try.

Just settled against my chest with a small sound that might have been relief or resignation or just exhaustion catching up with her.

I could count her eyelashes, could see the faint gold still flickering in her irises, could feel the residual heat radiating off her skin.