She had carelessly pushed up the sleeves of her rich burgundy dress, showing off the twining red-and-black tattoos around her arms. His beast turned over, noticing his colors now joined with hers. Her ebony hair was pulled up into a rough knot behind her head, but a riot of tendrils had escaped, framing her heart-shaped face. Her plump lips were curled up at the sides, and when she looked up, her dark eyes were bright despite the purple smudges beneath them.
She was everything he had never imagined possible. A beautiful, determined, powerful woman. She was magnificent. And she wasn’t his.
She looked up, saw him, and smiled, a massive, joyful beam. “Oh, Matt.” She stood and started around the table. “I’m so glad you’re here. The messenger said you were all safe, but I needed to see you!”
He dipped his chin, keeping a tight rein on the beast snarling and howling inside him. Wishing that his scales hadn’t covered his arms and neck, almost up to his eyes.
Fuck. He had said goodbye. He had walked away. But here she was still looking at him like he meant something. Like they meant something.
He had to work to keep his voice smooth, but he managed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Lucy stopped, eyes wide as the color slowly leached from her cheeks. She turned to look at Nim, who rose to her feet, some unspoken message passing between them.
Gods. Whatever hell this was, he wanted no part of it. He wanted this over. He wanted to warn them about Dornar and then escape. Far, far away. Somewhere with a barrel of alcohol where he could drown his grief and loss.
He wanted Lucilla to accept that this was over, not make it so much harder. He wanted to lash out at Tristan, who had put him in this awful fucking position in the first place.
He turned to Nim and gave her his most charming smile as he forced out the words, “Afternoon, darlin’.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucy reach for the back of a chair and grip it tightly.
Nim didn’t reply, and nor did anyone else.
Eventually, Lucilla spoke softly. “Thank you, everyone. Please, can we adjourn here. I’d be grateful for a moment with Matt.”
They rose silently from their chairs and began filing from the room, faces carefully blank. No one made eye contact with him, not even Nim. Mathos wished that he could leave too, but his feet were rooted to the ground as, one by one, they walked away.
The last person past was Tristan, and Matt put out his hand to stop him. “Talk to Val about Dornar. He escaped.”
Tristan grunted, but Mathos knew he would take the threat seriously, and then Tristan was gone too.
Mathos folded his arms over his chest and looked up. The ceiling was decorated with a vibrant painting of swirling white clouds on a blue sky. But it wasn’t the real thing. Somehow it didn’t give him any of the reassurance he needed.
“What’s going on, Matt?” Lucilla asked quietly.
How could he possibly explain? He had thought that she was a spoiled princess, when in reality she was a goddess. And then, when he’d finally understood, he’d had to face just how far below her he really was; he was a mercenary, and she was a queen.
But more than that, he had failed at every relationship he had ever had, while she was already making friends. He had run his father’s estates into bankruptcy, and she had started bringing Kaerlud back to life in just one day. He had robbed her of her dreams, and she would hate him for it eventually.
He loved her. And his love would never, ever be enough. She would send him away, and it would kill him. He had tried to say goodbye, but she hadn’t listened. Now it was up to him to end this charade.
“I told you that I don’t have relationships.”
Lucy let go of her death grip on the chair and walked slowly to stand in front of him. Her face was pale as she laid a soft hand on his arm, her dark eyes beseeching. “Matt, you must know how I feel about you. I thought—”
Gods. He couldn’t bear to hear it.
He forced himself to sneer as he interrupted. “What? You thought you were different? So did every woman I’ve ever fucked… darlin’.”
He saw the blow land, her eyes widening in shocked pain. Felt it as if he had landed it in his own gut. Gods, what was he doing?
And it was a lie anyway. Of the women he’d spent the night with, not a single one of them had ever wanted more.
He could feel her hand trembling on his sleeve, but she didn’t back down. “I believe in you, Matt. I don’t think you mean the hurtful things you’re saying. I think, maybe, you’re trying to push me away to protect yourself. Let’s just talk about this—”
Fuck it all. He had expected her to walk away. To already be moving on. But instead, she was fighting for him. And it made it infinitely worse.
He ripped his arm back. He couldn’t do this. Not for one more second. He whirled around and flung the door open, stalked through, and let it slam behind him.
