What the hell am I doing?
He released her with a curse, staring at her in horror. He'd never done anything like that in his life. The thought of losing her was making him lose his mind.
"God, Anna, I'm sorry." His voice was rough and uneven from the harshness of his breath.
He deserved the way she was looking at him--as if he were scum beneath her heel. "I never thought you were a brute. But it seems you are well placed with your usurping king. You just take what you want."
"Anna, I--"
"Just go," she said bitterly. "The best thing you can do is go. You've done enough damage already." Her eyes met his, challenging. "You didn't honestly think I could ever forgive you for this, did you?"
It was a confirmation of his worst fears. He'd been a fool. He'd let his emotions color his perception of reality. Because he wanted her so badly, he'd let himself believe a future could be possible. But there had never been a chance for them. She would never forgive what duty, honor, and loyalty demanded he do.
His gaze locked on hers, searching for any sign of weakness, but her eyes met his, cold and unflinching. The lack of tears, of anger, of emotion, left no doubt. It was over. God, it was really over.
He'd always known this moment might come, but he'd never expected to feel such helplessness and despair. He'd never expected it to hurt like this. He felt as if he were being ripped to shreds inside and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.
"I love you, Anna. I will always love you. Nothing will ever change that. I hope one day you will understand that I never meant to hurt you."
Unable to stop himself, he reached out to touch her cheek one more time. But she jerked away from him as if he were a leper, and his hand fell to his side.
"Goodbye," he said, and then with one last look that he would have to hold on to for a lifetime, he turned and walked away.
He would never forget how she looked at that moment. Small. Alone. Achingly beautiful, with her long golden hair tumbling around her shoulders in shimmering waves and her delicate features cast in the opalescent glow of the shadow of the moonlight.
So fragile she could shatter like glass.
But resolved. Painfully resolved.
His chest felt as if it were on fire, the burning intensifying with every step. He felt as though he were walking through the fires of hell, the weight of each footfall sheer agony. He couldn't quiet the sensation that it was wrong to leave her like this. That if he didn't do something right now it would be too late. He made it halfway to the stables before he turned around.
But it was too late. She was already gone.
He glanced to the top of the stairs leading to the donjon tower, catching a glimpse of golden hair streaming out behind her like a banner before disappearing behind the door.
When it closed, it seemed as if something inside him had closed as well. For good. It was a part of him that should never have been opened in the first place.
This was what he got for letting himself get involved. He was meant to be alone. He should never have forgotten that.
He tried to ignore the emptiness burning in his chest. He had to stop thinking about her. He needed to focus on the task at hand. But images of her face kept flashing through his mind. Haunting him. Distracting him.
He entered the stables, quickly readying his horse. Volunteering for the night patrol was proving doubly fortuitous--not only would it serve as an excuse for him to get out of the castle, but it also meant he didn't have to waste time returning to the barracks. His important belongings he had on him: his mail and his weaponry. The extra clothing and few personal items he could leave behind.
His plan had changed. He needed to leave for good now--even if it meant Lorn learned his plan had been compromised. Anna learning the truth had left him no options. He could not risk the chance that she would change her mind.
He spent no more than five minutes in the stables. All he could think about was getting out of there and putting distance between them. It was better this way, he told himself. He'd been fine on his own before; he'd be fine again.
He didn't make it out of the stables. His senses alerted him, but not in time. Once again his emotions had distracted him. Though this time it wouldn't have made any difference.
He opened the stable door to find himself surrounded. John of Lorn and his son Alan beside him were flanked by at least two dozen guardsmen with swords drawn.
Arthur's jaw clenched against the gut-stabbing pain. He couldn't believe it. Anna had given him up.
Perhaps he should have expected it, but he hadn't thought her capable. He'd underestimated her love for her father and overestimated her love for him.
It shouldn't feel like so much of a betrayal.
But it did.
