Caelan stared at her for a second longer, before turning around and leaving. The door clicked softly behind him.
In a couple of hours, the evening began to settle across the sky in shades of purple and gold.
Sorcha had finished packing. Her chamber was now almost bare. It looked almost the way it had when she had first arrived—cold, unclaimed, as though she had never truly belonged there at all.
Now that she thought about it, she really didn’t.
Just then, her gaze landed on something she had yet to pack: the robe she had worn on the night she had been at her most vulnerable. She had folded it neatly on the bed. It looked innocent in appearance, but the memory attached to it was most treacherous.
Heat bloomed between her legs before she could stop it.
She remembered William’s hands. His mouth. The way he had looked at her as though she were something he wanted but feared touching. The way his fingers had worshiped her curves.
But the longer she stared at the robe, the hotter her anger flared.
No. She would not carry it with her. She would not bring memories of William into whatever future awaited her.
“Ye’re nae comin’ with me,” she muttered, gripping the fabric. “I willnae carry painful memories.”
With the robe clenched in her hand, she left her chamber. Her steps echoed through the quiet corridor. She reached the hearth at the far end of the hall, where the fire burned bright.
She did not hesitate. She drew in a deep breath and tossed the robe into the flames. The fabric caught almost instantly, blackening as the fire devoured it.
The glow reflected the satisfaction in her eyes. Because deep down, she knew this was not just fabric burning. The sight of it made a tear spill over before she could stop it. She brushed it away roughly.
She was stronger than this. She must be.
“Goodbye, William,” she whispered.
With another breath, she turned… and drew to a halt.
Goodness.It was almost creepy.
William stood before her. Talk. Still. Devastatingly handsome.
Seeing him this close for the first time since he had made his announcement made her heart clench painfully.
However, his eyes were not on her. Not yet. They were fixed on the fire behind her. On the burning remnants of her robe.
The flames danced in his eyes, making them darken further. Darken into something irresistible.
Just like that, her body betrayed her. Dangerous heat pooled low between her thighs.
But she refused to let him see it. She had burned the proof of her weakness. She would not crumble now.
Without sparing him a single glance, without waiting for him to look at her face, Sorcha stepped forward and moved past him as quickly as she could before her heart failed her.
She almost believed she was succeeding.
She had put a good distance between them. Her spine was straight, her chin lifted. She was focused on the stone floor ahead, ready to escape the temptation he came with. She was almost free of him.
And then, right on time, he shattered her hope.
“Isnae it such a waste?” he asked, his voice low and maddeningly calm. “Destroyin’ something so fancy.”
She stopped dead.
Those words… they made her chuckle. A dry, humorless sound that surprised even her.
