At his approach, the guards quickly opened the door. He stopped, turning to face her. A brief flicker in his eyes, a tiny crack in his armor. Not warmth—not exactly—but something closer to pain. He nodded. “Inside. Now, Trisha.”
With his silent storm following, Trisha took in her surroundings. She’d never been to his private quarters. The corridor where she’d stepped in contained only a few tapestries, ancient weapons, and hollow armor, but it wasn’t where Blainor was leading her.
“To the right.”
She stepped into a spacious room overlooking the moors and the sea. A sturdy table with ornate carvings stood near the window, high-backed chairs positioned beside it. A chunky rug covered the floor, along with a few portraits on the walls. Sunlight shone on the polished wood, beaming off the frames. The air was warmer here. It smelled like him.
The door slammed shut; Trisha whirled around.
Blainor leaned his entire weight against the door, eyes narrowed on her. A blink of emotion made her throat tighten.Then, the man pounced forward, walking across the room side to side, parallel to Trisha.
“Let me hear them, Trisha. Your reasons.” Underneath his low voice, she heard the strain. He continued to pace to and fro. “Why did you run away? Where did you go?”
All those answers she’d been preparing vanished in an instant.
“I—” she started. “I should never have left. I’m?—”
“Not what I asked,” he ground out. The man stopped his pacing, instead taking a slow step toward her. His attention strayed to the fae flowers atop her head. “You disappeared, Trisha. Without a word. Without any warning. Do you even realize what you left me to face? All clans gathered under my roof. My chiefs. My people, to whom I introduced you as my bard. And now, you appear as though it means nothing. Wearing a crown of flowers that are not of this world. What am I supposed to think?”
Excuses and reasons failed her.
“I came back, didn’t I?” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to…” The impossibility of her explanation drowned all her excuses.
“To what?” he snapped. “To vanish? To forget?” Blainor’s nostrils flared before he reined himself. His next words were softer but no less harsh. “At least, tell me it was worth it ‘this time’?”
“No!” The denial tore out of her. Trisha blinked, furious at herself. “It was reckless and stupid of me. I just couldn’t stay. Not after…” She blushed. The memory of his mouth, his touch, whispered back to life, but she forced herself to speak despite it. “I was afraid,” she said in a quiet voice, unable to bring herself to look at him. “Of what you’d do. Of myself.”
Blainor stilled, as though her words had frozen him. His hands tightened into fists before he forced his fingersto relax. “Afraid? You ran away because you felt too much? Because you thought leaving would fix it?”
Trisha flinched.
“What am I supposed to do with that?” Blainor shook his head. He strode past her to the window and leaned on the sill. And where did you go?” Blainor gestured toward the sea. “Dapple’s tracks lead toward the water and vanish. Are you going to tell me your horse sprouted wings?”
“I—” The lie died before it took shape. She wanted to tear the flowers Rilka had woven into her hair. “Please, Blainor. Don’t ask me that. I don’t want to lie.”
“So this is the extent of your trust.” He spoke through his teeth, tone cutting. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You clearly take me for a fool.”
“No! It’s not that. I… It’s not my secret to tell. I made a vow, and I cannot betray it.”
Blainor scoffed. “Cannot, or will not?”
Her breath hitched.
“Four weeks. Four weeks of silence—no word, no explanation. Chaos in your wake, questions I had to answer with no answer. And now, you appear out of thin air and offer half-truths and vague pleas.” Blainor stepped closer, face drawn. “What exactly are you expecting from me, Trisha?”
The question felt like a slap. Of course, he wouldn’t understand. What a fool she’d been to think she still had a chance. Her few days had turned into four weeks for him.
“I suppose I made a mistake, then. I shouldn’t have come back,” she said, glad that her voice didn’t waver too much. “My apologies for causing trouble.” Despite the words cutting her heart apart, she still forced them out. “I won’t do it again.” Spinning around, she took unsteady steps toward the door. She’d collect her belongings and ride away. Hopefully, the stablehands hadn’t stripped Dapple’s saddle yet.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to leave.” Blainor’s low voice sliced through the air, his warning tone sending shivers down her spine.
Bubbling anger stirred in her blood. What did he want? To make Trisha bleed out here on the floor for his own pleasure? How much more could he punish her? Trisha’s teeth clenched as she turned. “I came back, didn’t I? I came back to apologize and mend what my running away caused. But clearly, you don’t want that.” She hated that her mouth trembled, but she wouldn’t falter. She’d humiliated herself enough by apologizing to him. She’d be damned if she’d start caring now. “If my chaos is too much to bear, my lord, then I’ll just go.”
“Running away again, are we? Evenbeforethe dust settles?”
He took a quick step forward, the thick rug muffling the sound. Tension radiated from every pore of his taut body, from his clenched jaw to his squared shoulders, as if he were ready to draw out a sword. A long inhale, and then another step. Trisha’s hands balled, her nails digging into her skin. Still, he approached, almost feral, like a wounded animal, but she held her ground. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her stumble. She’d stripped herself bare, and there was nothing more to offer, nothing else to break.
“What does it matter?” asked Trisha. “You’ve made it clear that my presence isn’t required… nor wanted. Let me go. I’ll ride back to Normark. Felmanch. Anywhere but here.”
