I love Tristan so much. Can he not see that this is the only way for us to have a clean start?
I don’t want to cry, but tears still flow, and I keep my head low, hoping he won’t see it. Instead of leaving swiftly, he just stands there, until he clears his throat and comes closer again. I’m such a darn mess.
“Can I help in any way?” he whispers. “Are you worried about staying alone here? You are safe, I assure you.”
“No… I just—” I know there are words inside me that would communicate the depths of my feelings and the confusion over having to hurt him like this, but they’re not coming. “I care for you so much, Tristan…”
“I understand. I’m sorry I can’t meet you halfway. It would not be fair to your heart or mine. So I… must go,” he says quickly and turns to the balcony as my whole chest seems to collapse on itself.
I want to stop him. I want to grab at his arm, ask for forgiveness he can’t possibly give me yet, I want him to stay so I can convince myself I haven’t just ruined the best relationship I’ve ever had. But he spreads his wings and flies out as I collapse, hiding my face in my hands while I struggle for breath.
I did the right thing. I shouldn’t let him entrap me, no matter how noble his intentions might be.
But why does it have to hurt so, so darn much?
The whimpers and scratching on the bedroom door pull me out of my stupor, but I don’t have the strength to get up, so I go there on all fours and let Lady out. She crashes into me, licking my face like mad, and while it’s hardly helpful, I do end up hugging her tightly.
Despite how she’s been hurt by humans, she’s so happy to see me, so eager to be around me. She trusts me.
So why am I so broken?
Chapter 33
Tristan
I’m numb as I go through the motions of preparing our bags for the journey. It’s not that far, but if things don’t go as intended, we might have to camp in the wilderness. At least planning what to take, from snacks to the tent, gives me a purpose and something to focus on.
I didn’t get much sleep last night, rolling from one side to the other as the conversation with Nate wouldn’t stop tormenting me. All I could do for him was keep my composure, but I failed even at that and lost my nerve too much. At least I can’t say I didn’t communicate my feelings for him in a last-ditch effort to prove I’m worth his affection.
Not that it mattered in the end.
Nate doesn’t seem to have slept well either, but to me he’s just as handsome with swollen eyelids and grayish complexion as he was when I first saw him.
There’s a wall between us now. A wall that could be pierced if one of us reached out, but I fear it can’t be shattered, and it stays in place even when I slide into the saddle behind him.
He is trying to keep his back straight and avoids leaning into me, but I can still smell the wood and amber on his hair. It’s faint, likely a leftover from the perfume he used before accompanying me to the party, but despite the thorn in my heart, I wish I could bury my face in his neck and soothe myself with his aroma.
But I know better than that.
I am Prince Tristan Bloodweed, and I’ve been raised to withstand any hardship with my head held high. So I nod back at the servants, then villagers, but I’m relieved once we leave civilization behind and ride into a long valley cutting through snow-capped peaks.
It’s beautiful out here, the scenery like an old picture that’s faded in the moonlight. The colors around us seem muted, and nature holds its breath, as if waiting for one of us to break down.
If we ventured out today on a pleasure ride, the same landscape would have echoed with laughter, but now only the trees rattle in the faint breeze, distant and as cold as the ice covering their limbs. It’s as if the world around us holds on to everything we have lost, not with bitterness but an ever-deepening ache that I know will stay with me until the day I die.
Maybe once we find the unicorn and break the bond, I’ll freeze in place as well and never thaw?
At least then Nate will be free to seek out springtime.
I promised him that I will help him cut the thread between our shadows, and I will not rest until I do so if that is his wish. It’s the sole thing I can now do for him to believe I am a man who keeps his word.
We’ve been travelling for several hours now, with a few breaks to eat something and stretch our legs, but when we enter a clearing in the forest, we can finally see Melancholy Peak.
A long, long time ago, a fine castle used to occupy its summit, but all that’s left of it now is ruins. I’ve never read anything on the history of this place, but I do know it’s been abandoned hundreds of years ago.
Perhaps sorrow was the source of its destruction, because as Stone speeds up toward the climb, the broken towers rise toward the moon like hands begging for absolution. Moonlight spills over the stone, so pale it makes the ramparts appear sickly rather than romantic, and no matter how precisely it spills into each crack, it couldn’t piece the ruin back together.
It must have been exquisite in its prime. Now, it’s just a monument to the melancholy in my heart.
