Chapter 339: Love That Couldn’t Be Saved (I)
Primrose and Edmund had actually spoken about this matter before, not in detail, perhaps, but she had once wondered aloud to him if there might be magic that could grant her long life or keep her young for a long time.
However, Edmund had answered firmly, "Anything gained unnaturally will only lead to suffering," he had told her. "I would rather see you grow old by my side than watch you pay the price of defying fate."
Even Raven, who still looked young and had lived far longer than most, had only managed it by practicing dark magic, and in return, she had suffered more misfortune than most could bear.
Besides, as Leofric had said before, it was nearly impossible for ordinary people to endure dark magic, since their bodies were not built for it, especially someone like Primrose, who was still so inexperienced in such matters.
Therefore, there was little chance that Primrose would ever walk the same path Lorelle had, and if she ever even tried, Edmund’s fury would be nothing compared to the heartbreak in his eyes.
"You’re strange," Lorelle muttered, narrowing her eyes. "I thought people blinded by love would be willing to do anything, even if their partner forbade it."
"But what for?" Primrose replied firmly. "What’s the point of doing something for him if, in the end, it only makes him suffer? Besides, there’s no guarantee I’d succeed."
She wasn’t refusing because she didn’t want to be with her husband for a long time, but because if her actions ever made Edmund grieve, then she simply would not do it.
"Tell me, Lorelle," Primrose asked softly, "was the person you loved truly happy knowing you went this far for them?"
She didn’t even know who could have driven Lorelle to chase immortality so desperately. Could it be that the one she loved was also immortal?
On the other side, Lorelle suddenly gave a soft laugh, though it didn’t sound like she was laughing at something amusing. Instead, it was the sound of someone mocking their own misfortune.
"Was that person ... your lover?" Primrose asked again, her tone careful.
Lorelle’s smile faltered, and for a moment her eyes grew distant, clouded with something between pain and longing.
"No," she whispered. "He’s not my lover. He... actually rejected me more times than I can count."
In her mind, she added bitterly, [And instead of loving me back, he bound me to this cursed brother-sister bond, so any romantic relationship between us would look strange. That bastard ... I’m sick of his face. I can’t stand even looking at him anymore.]
Primrose froze at the revelation, her mind racing. Which brother could it be? It couldn’t possibly be Edmund, could it? Her husband had never been the one to suggest binding their relationship as sworn siblings.
That only left one answer.
Leofric? She loved him romantically?!
Oh, heaven ... no wonder she had thrown a water jug at him and only a glass at Edmund. It turned out Lorelle truly hated him because he had rejected her over and over again, and even grew angry when she tried to chase immortality.
But wait ... did that mean Leofric was immortal? Was such a thing even possible for a beast? Edmund had once told her that while beasts could live far longer than humans, it did not make them immortal.
Now she was even more confused, and it seemed unlikely Lorelle would answer if Primrose openly asked about that matter.
Did Edmund know? From the look of it, probably not. Her husband seemed almost clueless about the truth between Leofric and Lorelle. To him, they had always been bound only by a strong sibling bond, never by anything resembling romance.
"Do you still ... love him now?" Primrose asked softly.
Lorelle let out a rough breath and turned her face away. "I don’t know," she whispered. "And what would it matter? I’ll be dead soon anyway."
Primrose bit down on her lip before reaching out, gently taking Lorelle’s hand in hers. "But what if ... just what if you had another chance to live longer? Would you still try to win his love?"
Lorelle’s fingers tightened slightly around Primrose’s hand. She closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling as if the question pressed heavily on her heart.
At last, she shook her head. "No. I would let this feeling go. Maybe he was right all along ... someone like me could never be his mate."
[Maybe he was right. It would be better if we remained brother and sister instead of lovers.]
[And besides, even if he had accepted me, I would still die first. He would only be left behind, alone in the end.]
Lorelle’s gaze lifted to Primrose, her eyes shadowed with sorrow. [Poor girl. She’ll probably face the same fate one day. But ... since Edmund isn’t immortal, at least they might find each other again in the afterlife.]
Primrose was about to speak when Lorelle’s voice echoed in her mind again. [Wait ... is Rosie even really human? She doesn’t look like one.]
Primrose froze. What? What was that supposed to mean?
She was certain she was human. Her father was human, and so was her mother. There wasn’t a single trace of anything else in her family, so why was Lorelle suddenly suggesting otherwise?
What could Lorelle have seen to think something so strange? Did Primrose look less human because she had been spending so much time with Edmund? That didn’t make sense at all.
"Lorelle." Primrose pushed aside all the questions about her own species and brought the conversation back to Lorelle’s condition. "Would you like to try one more time to heal yourself?"
Lorelle frowned, and this time she looked truly angry, pulling her hand harshly from Primrose’s grasp. "Don’t talk nonsense," she hissed. "I’m beyond saving. The longer I stay alive, the more I drown in pain and misery. Just tell your husband and Leofric to let me die quickly. Don’t waste your time chasing after false hope."
Primrose’s heart squeezed at her words, because she recognized them. She had once said the very same things to herself, back when she believed death was kinder than living in endless pain.
"What if I told you ...." Primrose whispered gently. "I have a way to take your pain away?" She paused, giving Lorelle space to breathe. "I may not be able to cure your illness, but at the very least ... you won’t have to suffer anymore."