Anywhere but here, where everything reminds me of whatIcan’t have…ofTheron.
My chest tightens painfully, andIpress a hand to it, trying to steady my breathing.Idon’t want to leave him, butIdon’t see any other choice.Idon’t know?—
A soft knock sounds at the door, pulling me from my thoughts.
I sniff and straighten quickly, assuming it must be the maid returning to see ifIneed anything else.
“Come in,”Icall, wiping hastily at my cheeks.
The door opens but it isn’t the maid.Theronstands in the doorway.
For a moment,Ican only stare.
He looks…different.Notin the way he always has—big and powerful and a little dangerous—but something else is layered over it now.
He’s dressed in rich court clothes that fit him as though they were made for him—a dark, tailored coat of deep charcoal embroidered subtly with silver thread that catches the light when he moves.Beneathit, a crisp white shirt is open slightly at the throat, revealing a glimpse of his broad chest, and fitted black trousers mold to his powerful legs.Heavyboots complete the look, polished but still sturdy enough to suit the man he was before all of this.
The silver accents echo his eyes, the strength of his build and the quiet authority in the way he stands.Helooks kingly already.
Something inside me twists andIfeel a desperate stab of sorrow.Hecan have any woman in the kingdom that he wants…someone worthy of standing beside him.
I have never felt smaller or more insignificant.
“Can we talk?”he asks.
My hands fold in my lap automatically asIlook down at them, unable to hold his gaze for long.
“Talk about what?”Iask, trying to keep my voice from trembling.
He steps inside and closes the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the large room as he crosses the space between us in a few long strides.
“About why you want to go.”
I don’t answer becauseIcan’t.Ican’t tell him how guiltyIstill feel about the witch…and howIdon’t feel worthy of him now.
He comes to stand in front of me, then reaches out and gently lifts my chin with one hand, forcing me to look up at him.Hissilver eyes search my face, and his brow furrows.
“You’ve been crying.”
“Sorry.”Iswipe at my cheeks again, embarrassed, but he only shakes his head and sits beside me on the bed, close enough thatIcan feel the heat of his big body against my side.
“You don’t have to be sorry—not for anything, little one,” he murmurs.
“I should have told you about the witch,”Iprotest, the guilt rising again, sharp and painful.“Fromthe beginning.Ishouldn’t have kept that from you.”
“That’s over and done with,” he rumbles.“Ifshe hadn’t sent you, she would have sent another priestess.Someoneelse would have come looking for me.”
He pauses, then adds more quietly,
“Personally,I’mglad she sent you.Becauseyou’re the only oneIwant.”
I bite my lip and glance up at him, my heart fluttering painfully in my chest.Doeshe really mean that?Idon’t know ifIcan believe it.
“You didn’t want me last night,”Isay.“Youbought me this beautiful ring and acted like we were married…then you said we couldn’t be together.”
My fingers twist the ring again, the twin jewels flashing as they turn.
“That’s becauseI’ma damn fool and a coward.”Hisvoice is rough, edged with frustration, andIlook up in surprise.
