“I was right. Youarelike all the rest. You take what you want. You think you can force me to your will, whether it’s dragging me to this court, demanding that I lead you through the Shadows, or stopping me from walking out this door.” Hot tears stung Caramyn’s cheeks. "And here I was actually starting to think you saw me for something more than just a pawn in your game."
“No, Caramyn!” Asterious pushed a clenched fist against the doorframe, hanging his head as if trying to collect his thoughts. "You don’t realize what’s at stake. This...this is not what I wanted...”
Caramyn stood with her back to the door, watching him stumble through his words. The room, his voice—everything about this moment felt like iron bars closing around her. All she wanted to do was run.
She wiped away a tear on her sleeve, ashamed to have been seen like this. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried, yet now it felt as though every tear she had swallowed over the years was fighting to burst through now. He had stirred fears and doubts she thought she’d learned to shut out long ago, muddling the conflicts already raging in her heart. She couldn’t decide what to think—not here, not now. She only knew she had to get away from him.
“It's not what I wanted either.” She managed to choke out the words, and then slipped out the door.
20
More Than That
Asterious
Asterious watched the door close behind Caramyn as she disappeared into the darkness of the castle, taking his last hope with her. Slamming his fist against the door, he released a howling groan. He trembled as he succumbed to the storm raging within. He’d held it back as long as he could. Long enough to keep from hurting her. But he almost had…
Marching back towards the dining room, his eyes blurred as he braced himself over the table. Trembling, he looked up and saw himself for what he was in the grand mirror on the wall. Pathetic. Broken. A vessel of destruction. He picked up a chalice and hurled it at the mirror, the glass shattering his reflection.That horrid reflection. He wanted to pick up the pieces and bleed himself out doing it, but as he dropped to his knees, a nagging voice warned him of the dangers if he crossed this line, if he lost himself to his fury and shame. Blinking, he eased himself.
He didn’t know what pained him more—the fact that he’d failed to convince Caramyn to help him or the fear that he had pushed her away. And he didn’t understand why the latter was part of the question. Why did he ache to be near her? Why did something in those eyes call to him like a siren he couldn’t silence? Why couldn’t he stop thinking of her, standing in the sunlight in that thin, flowing nightdress, staring at him like he was a murderer? Though he very much deserved for her to look at him that way. Because he was. Whether he liked it or not, he was.
And now he’d touched her. Grabbed her and nearly couldn’t let her go. She had every right to be disgusted with him. Just as disgusted than he was with himself…with the way he held onto the fleeting memory of feeling her skin against his hands. He’d touched her…but not the way he should have. Not with the hands of a killer…of a monster.
Fearing for her safety was not an obstacle he’d anticipated. He brought her here to keep her safe, but he was beginning to realize he might have dragged her to a much worse fate than whatever she was already running from. He was a fool. And damn well the monster she accused him of being. He caught his shaking breath, desperately fighting the churning in his heart as he remembered the claw marks. If that beast was roaming outside in the night, it meant far worse was to come...especially if Caramyn stayed.
And how he needed her to stay…
It was late, but the prince knew Riven would likely be in the training room, as he often stayed up in the night hours sharpening his swordsmanship skills. It’d be the perfectdistraction from himself, from the tangled emotions erupting within him.
Pain is a tool…a necessary teacher.
He repeated Wyran’s instructions to himself, silently scolding himself for letting himself feel this much. Flinching was to be punished. Crying, never permitted. Anger should be beaten down until it learned to stay quiet. Discipline, Wyran called it. The only way to stay in control.
Train the body not to react, and neither will the mind.
He trudged down the castle halls, towards the training room, pushing through the simple wooden door bearing the Vaerwynd coat of arms—the silver moon phases—on a shield emblem. Sure enough, there was Riven, swinging his sword at an invisible opponent in careful formation as he perfected a striking technique.
Asterious’ boot on the marble floor made the slightest tap, and Riven stopped to look over at the prince in the doorway.
“Care for a spar?” Asterious asked.
“Always, Your Highness.” Riven dipped his head forward and walked over to the weaponry table to put away the sword.
“Don’t address me with titles right now, friend. Just let me be your worthy opponent.”
As the two men wrapped their knuckles, Riven raised an eyebrow. “Dinner didn’t go too well, I’m assuming?”
Asterious shook his head. “It went to hell. She doesn’t trust me. And I don’t know what else I expected.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I pinned her to the door, Riven. I almost didn’t let her leave. I almost…” He trailed off, staring at the far wall. “And she had claw marks.Beastlyclaw marks.”
“You think it’s coming back?” Riven was trying to look composed, but Asterious could tell by the slight waver in his voice that he was just as concerned as he was.
“I don’t know. But it’s been like this since we brought her here. I’ve been fighting it more than usual.” A long silence hung in the air before Riven eased the tension.
“Did you at least find out if she can lead us through the Shadow Woods?”
Asterious rubbed his wrist as he stared at his open palm before starting the next wrap. “I think she can. I think she knows she can, too. But something is clouding her head. Something troubles her beyond just not trusting me. But it doesn’t help that she thinks I’m only using her as a pawn to get to the Blade.”
“And is she wrong? Is she more than that?”
