He gave me no quarter as he left the dining hall. With each step, the tether stretched tighter in my chest. The pain climbed until breath came thin, the thread of my soul unspooling after him, desperate to follow. I winced, teeth catching a sharp breath. Perhaps I deserved to be ripped apart.
“My bride,” Edric said, reaching for my hand. “What is it?”
Bride.
The word sounded wrong in his mouth.
“I must speak with Mav,” I said, drawing my hand from Edric’s.
Edric’s brows rose. “I’ll accompany you.”
“No.” The refusal leaped from my tongue. Offense flickered in Edric’s eyes, smoothed into civility. “I only meant this conversation must be private.”
It took everything to keep my voice even and my spine straight. I did not wait for the king’s permission to take my leave.
“The king will expect you—” a servant began.
“I shall return shortly.”
I refused to turn around and see the man to whom I had promised myself, knowing I had done so with my soul connected to someone else. The tether served as my compass, dragging me toward Mav. Each step grew more dire. Not merely the magical strain, but the devastation pouring through our connection. His devastation.
I must explain. I must mend what can be mended.
My heels rang against the marble. I could not move fast enough in these awful shoes. I pulled them off, holding them in one hand and hoisting up the skirts of my gown with the other. I ran to him. I did not know what I would say once I found him. Only that if I did not try, I would never forgive myself.
Bolting through a door, I was spat into a garden courtyard tucked within the castle walls.
Mav paced near a stone fountain, jaw locked, hands locked tighter. The tether stormed, lightning seeking ground. He looked capable of combustion.
“Mav,” I called, breathless.
He turned to the sound. The sorrow upon his face carved me open. He was wounded, furious, and held together by threadbare restraint. The softness I had always found in his eyes had been scraped out.
“I don’t know what you could possibly have to say to me.” He did not raise his voice; nevertheless, the pain was palpable.
I stepped nearer, extending my hand to him.
“Don’t.” He flinched from my touch. “Please…don’t.”
My hand fell. My mouth opened and closed around nothing. I drew a breath as though it might carry what I needed.
“I did not mean to hurt you,” I said softly.
He let out a wry, disbelieving laugh. “Didn’t mean to?” His gaze cut to me. “Then maybe don’t accept proposals from tyrants with god complexes.”
“I did not accepthim,” I said, moving closer. “I accepted a way out.”
He stilled.
The fountain’s murmur mocked us.
“I have spent three centuries in a gilded coffin,” I whispered. “Three hundred years of silence. Of stillness. Of sleep that never restores. And he—” my throat worked around the bile— “he offered an ending.”
“I damn well know what he offered.” Mav’s voice was quiet and sharp. “I was sitting right there.”
I moved closer to him, insisting he meet my gaze. “Do you believe I wish to be his bride?”
He said nothing.
