“She leaves in a few days. I don’t have the luxury of time.”
“Maybe she’ll come around before she goes. Otherwise, you’ll have to try before she leaves. You might have to wait it out and then go and see her there.”
“At the Shifter Court?” I don’t like the idea. “And then what?” I ask.
Damon meets my eyes. His expression is serious, his voice low but certain.
“You swallow every ounce of your pride, and you beg,” he says. “And you beg her to listen. You beg her to believe you, and you beg her to give you a second chance.”
I stare at him, waiting for the corners of his mouth to twitch. Waiting for him to tell me he’s joking.
He doesn’t.
“Beg?” I repeat. “I should beg her?”
“Not just beg.” Damon shakes his head. “You go on both knees. If you really love her, you will beg for a chance to explain. And you will lay yourself bare for her.”
“Bare?” I know I’m repeating everything like a fool, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
“Yes. You will tell her exactly how you feel. No holding back. Then you will beg her to give you a second chance.” He holds my gaze. “If you are open and honest and raw, you are in with a chance. If you hold back even just a little, she will cut you down at the knees. Hopefully, you will get your chance within the next few days, and if not, you’ll have to go to her.”
I absorb this. The ax hangs loose at my side. The morning light warms my bare shoulders, but I barely feel it.
“I fear that my window of opportunity has already closed,” I tell him.
“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “It hasn’t.” He smiles. “Not at all.”
I frown. “How do you know that?”
Damon sets down his own ax and turns to face me fully. His expression holds something that might be sympathy. Or maybe understanding.
“Because she tries really hardnotto look at you,” he says. “She works at avoiding you. That means she still cares. You are still in with a chance.” He pauses. “Bide your time. Don’t take too long, though, and then…” He raises his eyebrows, urging me to finish the sentence.
“Beg?” I try.
“Yes. And?”
“Tell her exactly how I feel.”
“Exactly right.” Damon nods. “And remember, you will need to mean it, or don’t even go there.” He picks up his ax again,weighing it in his hands. “For what it’s worth, I think she cares much more than she is letting on.”
Something flickers in my chest. A spark of something that might be hope. My heart beats a little faster at the thought.
“Thanks,” I tell him, hefting my own ax.
“Anytime,” he says.
We turn back to the wood.
I raise the ax over my head and bring it down. The blade bites deep. The stump splits open.
Damon’s advice goes against everything I have ever been taught. Against every instinct bred into me as a king. As a man who learned long ago that vulnerability is weakness and weakness gets you killed.
But Isla is not my enemy. She never was.
I bring the ax down again, and the wood splits.
44
