Gods, he wished he could go north with her and leave everything else behind. Wished it with every cell in his body.
But wouldn’t that make everything worse, knowing he had failed in his duties yet again and abandoned his new queen without enough protection? Geraint had died under his care; how could he leave Lucilla while she was vulnerable? How could he leave the Hawks—the men who had stood by him after Ravenstone—when they needed him?
He shook his head, fighting off the almost overwhelming temptation to leave it all behind and follow Keely. “I have responsibilities here. Commitments. I wish that I could leave them behind and be with you, I really do.”
The softness in her eyes faded. “You wish you could… but you won’t? You won’t even ask if you can be assigned to Alanna’s guards so that you can perform your duties with me? So that we could spend this time together?”
Gods. That wasn’t what he was saying. He was needed at the palace. They were massively under-resourced; Tristan and Jeremiel had interviewed all the Blues and been forced to remove vast swathes of Ballanor’s appointments, and the Hawks were now trying to replace them without compromising on Lucilla’s security. Who would he be if he failed them now?
In truth, he also needed the time to find himself again and make a life worthy of Keely. He needed to prove that he was good enough for her. She had walked away from him once already, and he couldn’t bear to go through that again. It would be better for her to go north, then, when she came back, everything would be different. “I have to stay here because this is where I’m needed, but when you get back, we can talk. Really talk. I’d like to—”
She lifted her head and looked him in the eye, a weary resignation settling over her face, and he swallowed the rest of his words. She didn’t seem to have heard anything past his refusal to leave Kaerlud anyway.
“Bard.” She spoke softly, almost to herself. “This is where you’re needed. Here. Not where I….” Her sentence faded into nothing.
Gods. This was going as badly as he had feared. “Keely, please. Give me some time to figure everything out.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “All these weeks weren’t enough?”
Damn. How had he left her alone for so long? What had happened to all that time? What the fuck was wrong with him?
He was sure he hadn’t asked the question out loud, but she answered him anyway. “Shall I tell you what I think, Tor?”
He dipped his chin slowly, and she continued. “I think that what your parents did to you was despicable. I can’t even imagine what kind of a person would treat their child like that.”
His parents? What the hell did they have to do with anything?
Her voice wobbled, but she didn’t stop. “I think they wounded you in ways that you haven’t admitted, even to yourself. You’ve never allowed yourself to grieve. And until you do—until you let yourself truly feel the depth of what they did—you’ll never accept what’s happened, and you’ll never be able to move forward. When you numb yourself, when everything is one big fog, it’s easy for the days to pass in a blur. I know because I’ve done it myself.”
He fought the urge to crack his knuckles and kept his focus trained on Keely as she continued, “I think that you’ll never trust me to care for you, to accept you as you are, becausetheydidn’t. And that’s why you can’t see a future for us.”
She sighed. “But Tor, I need that from you. I need you to want a future with me. I’m not expecting you to commit your whole life, or even your whole heart, but just… that you’ll try.”
Keely clasped her hands in front of her belly, twisting her fingers together in a way that told him far more than her firm voice and clear eyes. “And here’s something more for you to think about,” she continued. “Even if your parents came back to the palace tomorrow. Even if they suddenly realized how cruel they were and fell to their knees apologizing for what they’ve done… they still wouldn’t approve of me.”
Keely held his gaze. “You have to make a choice. Hold on to what’s left of the past, of the dreams you used to have, or create new ones. And I get it, Tor. I do. I know what it is to be so lost, so deeply hurt, that it’s almost inconceivable to even imagine a future again.”
She looked impossibly tired and vulnerable, standing in the doorway to her room. But her shoulders were back, her chin lifted, and she didn’t falter. She was still the woman he’d first seen hurling her defiance at Ballanor.
“Who areyou, Tor? Who do you want to be now that you’re standing on your own feet without them? Don’t make the mistake that I did and wait ten years before you answer that question.”
She wiped her hands down the outside of her legs as if her palms were damp. “I’d thought that maybe, one day, I would stand beside you—that we could stand together—but now…. Bard. The truth is that you don’t want me enough to risk it. What you feel for me is not enough to pull you out of that fog. And a vague promise that you’ve missed me is not enough for me. Not anymore.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders helplessly. He didn’t want that to be true. It couldn’t be true. Hedidwant her enough to take the risk. He was trying to do the right thing for them both. Wasn’t he?
But she wasn’t done.
She looked at him, her jade-green eyes seeing all the way through him. “Once upon a time, I fell in love with a boy. It was a springtime love, of youth and stolen kisses, but it was still love. His family wanted him to fight in the border wars, but he didn’t want to go—he was a musician and a farmer, not a soldier—and he was in love with a girl who wanted him to stay. But he left, like they asked him to, like they expected him to. In the end, their approval was more important to him than anything else. And he died there, Tor. Your family took their approval away from you, and it’s killing you too.”
He stared at her silently, trying to find some kind of response, but failing. He needed to speak. Knew he had to open his mouth and say something. His silence had cost him all this time with her already. But he couldn’t process the feelings churning inside him. Couldn’t deal with his confusion, the multitude of swirling thoughts. He couldn’t find the words he needed.
Long moments passed until she sighed, a long, sad release of breath. “Can you think about it, at least? There’s more… more to discuss.” Keely swallowed. “Will you come and see me before we leave? Please?”
He dipped his chin in slow agreement, not quite able to say the words. She waited, the silence growing heavy around them, but he couldn’t make himself respond.
“Okay,” she whispered eventually, stepping back. “Goodnight, Tor.” And then she closed the door in his face. And bolted it.
Chapter Nine
