She looks up, tears in her eyes.
“Look, I’ve made a decision,” I say. “This situation has become too dangerous for you. I can’t let you continue to do this. It was selfish and stupid of me,” I tell her, feeling awful. I’m the worst sort of heel. Why did I ever allow her to come with me in the first place?
Aren stares at me in a daze.
“What I’m trying to say is… You can’t stay with me. You need to go, for your own safety.” I see now that my plan was utter madness from the beginning but I feel compelled to explain myself.
“With war on the horizon, I’d forgotten that I have more enemies than merely the Usurper and the Kilandrar. I know from years of briefings that, in addition to those who would take royals hostage for ransom, there are also those who would like to see the treaty between Alarice and Loegria collapse, who do not want to accept me as my grandfather’s heir and their future king. My cousin, the Duke of Lancaster for one, and my own granduncle, Prince Namreth, to name another.
“Namreth has been sending assassins to murder me since I was named heir to the throne instead of him.
“Really, I come from a lovely family. So many relatives who want to see me dead.
“But Namreth is one of the staunchest traditionalists when it comes to male-line inheritance, primarily because it benefits himself. He’s gone missing since his banishment, his last known whereabouts somewhere in Penrith, but there the trail goes cold though my father’s spies keep trying to find him in order to fend off his troublemaking.”
I shake my head, trying not to picture what would happen if the kidnappers are successful in capturing Aren. They’re no real threat to my riches or my birthright, but they can hurt me. They can take away the one thing that supposedly matters the most to me: my beautiful, innocent bride. Dear gods, what have I done? What was I thinking? Why did I put a target on her back?
“You’re sending me away?” she asks incredulously. “After all this? What about your…problem?”
“I’ll figure it out, but you have to go,” I say, feeling utterly wretched. My mother is right, after all; I’m a coward and a fool.
“You don’t want me here, do you? I’m just dead weight. I can swing a frying pan, but I’m no warrior, no Lydia.”
I shake my head vehemently. “No…this is just too much to ask of anyone. Of you. I should have found another way. I should never have let you leave Evandale with me.”
“Well, it’s too late. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” she says, sitting ramrod straight, her eyes flashing with annoyance.
My words were meant to comfort her, but instead, I’ve upset her.
“Tell the truth. You can’t abide my company, I’ve cost you a valuable warrior, and you’re trying to get rid of me so no one else in your entourage dies protecting me,” she accuses.
“No, that’s not it at all! It’s just too dangerous.” Trying to get rid of her? I’m trying to save her life. Why can’t she see that?
Her eyes narrow as she says, “You knew it would be dangerous when you asked me. And we fought the Kilandrar together, remember? I know it’s dangerous.”
“But it’s even more dangerous than our intelligence reports predicted,” I say, more and more desperate to make her understand.
“Too bad. I’m not going anywhere. I have people I need to protect from the Usurper, too.”
I exhale in annoyance, reluctantly impressed by her spirit. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“I’m not leaving. End of discussion.” She huffs and folds her arms across her chest.
I tear my eyes away and resolve not to press the issue for now. But doesn’t she want to live to attend her sister’s wedding? Why won’t she listen to reason?
I wish I knew how to make her feel better, even if I can’t make her understand why she must go home. A man of worth should be able to muster the courage to reach out and hold her hand. I want to touch her simply so she won’t feel so alone, so abandoned. But my hands remain firmly wedged under my armpits. I’ve grown used to holding Aren in public, but it’s always been a staged performance…
That embrace at the inn earlier, though. That wasn’t for show.
Regardless of the performance we put on for the world, the truth is that we’re business partners, not intimate ones. To touch her now, in the privacy of the carriage, would feel like overstepping.
I could ask if she wants to be comforted, but I’m not sure I want to hear her reply. What if she says no? The rejection alone would make the rest of the carriage ride unbearable. She’s already made it clear she thinks I’m nothing more than an arrogant oaf on the best of days, despite this morning’s display of concern.
So, I keep my hands where they are.
She doesn’t say a word.
Her silence is slowly driving me mad. I want to lift her spirits, distract her, maybe make a terrible joke that she can roll her eyes at. I can’t think of a joke that feels right for the moment.
