I need to distract Carys. She’d wanted to know more about me before Kilkenny interrupted in the library. I may be grasping for straws, but …
“I know relationships can feel fickle. You could have many things in common with someone, maybe even trust them, but they’re outside of who you are, and it’s so difficult to know what’s going on inside someone’s mind. What their true intentions are.”
Her fists are clenched at her sides, her body rigid.
“I’m from the Grounds. Across the bridge. A very different lifestyle. Yet, you and I can bond over things like books. Dresses. Food.”
She doesn’t move a muscle, her focus on the floor.
I need to play into her curiosity about me. What did she want to know? I release a breath and my cheeks burn prematurely. “You asked me if I was fond of someone,” I say. “The truth is, romantically, I’m not. I’ve never felt that… special something that people speak of. No sparks. No racing heart or sweaty palms. No butterflies in my stomach. No fantasies…”
Her fists unclench and her body slowly relaxes. She lifts her head, but it’s clear she has no clue what I’m talking about.
“The love stories in the book of fairytales are all sort of similar, aren’t they? Enidwen and Caedmon—well, alright maybe not that one. Osha and… what was his name again?” I know his name, but what I don’t know is where Carys is mentally right now.
“James,” she says.
“Right.”
“Maeve and Catriona,” she adds.
I nod. “Sam and?—”
“Donegal.” She smiles as if proud about completing my sentence, but there’s still something unsettled about the smile. With a heavy sigh, she sinks down to the floor, pushing her curtain of hair out of her face and over her shoulders as she crisscrosses her legs beneath her dress.
I sit in front of her, mirroring her position. “So many great romances in Erleyan history.”
She gawks at me. “It’sfictional.”
“I’m not entirely convinced that romanceisn’tpurely fiction. At least for me.”
For a while, she stares down at the tiles, her long fingers tracing the lines in the floor design. When she glances up at me, she appears less frazzled and more like the Carys I’ve gotten to know. “So, you’ve never been attracted toanyone?” she asks.
My shoulders sag with relief; there she is. There is that lucid spark. I shake my head.
“So, then you’ve never…” Her eyes widen, her brows hidden by her disheveled hair.
Heat blooms in my cheeks but, again, I shake my head. Then I shrug.
The corner of her mouth lifts very subtly as if she’s too exhausted to muster a full smile. “Don’t be embarrassed. If you want it, I hope the perfect moment and the perfect lover finds you.”
I smile, warmed by her sincerity. “Thank you, Carys.”
A while later, I usher an exhausted Carys to bed and open the door. Lowri is no longer there, but both Kilkenny and Ellynne stand behind Carys’s door like a pair of concerned parents. I gesture toward the bed and shrug. “I can help tidy up,” I offer.
Ellynne smiles and nods gratefully. “Much appreciated,” she says.
Afterward,I’mexhausted and retire to my own bed for a much-needed nap. Just three more days and I get to go home.
CHAPTER 32
Carys
The eventsfrom hours before rush back to me as the clock chimes six times and sunlight trickles into my bedchamber. My body is heavy, weary, and try as I may, I cannot banish the memory of my behavior from my mind. These incidences are happening more frequently, and no amount ofmeditation,even with Alys’s guidance, can help me control them. First the spiral, then the rage.
I know what’s next, and I fear the crash that’s poised above me like a dagger.
Blinking, I survey my bedchamber. Someone has cleaned up the godsawful mess I made. I don’t even know what happened, exactly. One moment, I was contemplating changing my drapery, the next I was in a stranglehold of fury.
