This wasn't how anything was meant to go. In truth, I still hadn't worked out how to keep Guendolyn with us for a future together, but letting her go had never crossed my thoughts.
Now I can't get her sweet voice, the tears in her eyes, the devastation on her expression out of my head. It strangles me, and I came here to try to do something. To make it right somehow.
A guttural moan rips from my throat, hands curling into fists. My emotions whip back and forth between the grief of letting her go and fondness at memories I will cherish forever. Those lips so sweet, so soft, so captivating, just like her.
I should be paying this much attention to uncovering the king’s killer and making them suffer. I’m fucking furious for having the one thing I desperately want taken away. My priorities have changed now to Guendolyn.
I turn to the door, staring at the handle, and I play with the idea of going inside, breaking down the door if I have to for one last kiss, one more everything. Who the fuck am I fooling? There is no 'one last' anything, is there? It will never be enough.
Pitching one hand to the wall, I can’t see straight through the fury burning within me. Revenge bubbles in my chest. When I find the sonofabitch, I’ll rip them apart with my bare hands for putting me in this spot.
Except, what I want doesn't matter anymore. Not if I want to keep a roof over my family's heads. It's what mother wants, what the king had insisted on. And something I've dreamed of since we moved here. I was so young then, and I trained endlessly for this position, aspired to take my place on the throne. Now, I'm torn.
I never expected Guendolyn to sweep into my life and steal my heart.
Fuck!
I suck in one raspy breath after another, nails digging into my palms as I squeeze my fists. Wrenching my gaze from her door, I turn away.
This is for the best.
I goddamn hate those words. Nothing is better for me than Guendolyn, and it cuts me deep to make this decision. When the hell had she crept into my heart so much, anyway?
I blink and wait for my reasoning to catch up to the heartache of hurting her. I’ll accept my pain, but it’s unbearable to watch her cry.
One last look toward Guendolyn's room and I stride away. My presence won't help. It'll make it harder for both of us, and I won’t entertain that idea. I'll keep my distance, as much as it kills me. I'll follow the rules and do the right thing for everyone else.
I'll sacrifice my heart.
Guen
Bruised clouds shift over the sky, stealing the morning sun outside, the view spectacular through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the dining room. I stir honey into my porridge and take another mouthful. The room is empty. No signs of the princes this morning.
Rage roared inside my head and chest at Ahren for most of the night, and when I finally slept, my dreams were filled with me running from darkness. Out of that darkness, a voice came, calling for me. It reminds me of the dreams and visions I experienced growing up. The twisted woods and lurking danger. The images I painted of them, having no clue how much of a significance they had to me. Guess the truth has been dying to come out all along.
Now I sit here drifting away in sorrow, my mind heavy with questions I have no answers for. But I force myself to finish my food and wash it down with juice.
I refuse to accept Ahren's decision to push me away, and his brothers are bound to know what's really going on with him. But I also need a distraction before I wear a hole in my bedroom from pacing.
Outside the dining hall, my guard waits for me. "Michae, can we visit the throne room, please?"
He nods without pause, and we stride down the corridor. Michae is a tall fae with short blond hair and pointy ears. Like most of the soldiers, he's broad and intimidating. Luther appointed him as my personal watchdog, and if anyone questions who I am, I'm to continue the ruse that I’m the princes' personal healer.
Like the previous day, there are fae darting about the castle in a frenzy.
I wrench my gaze toward the throne room as we approach. The door is shut. Michae pushes it open, and I step into the empty hall made of marble. The place is spotless, without a hint of blood or the chaos that took place here. It's a grand, large space with columns creating a passage down the middle leading to a wide staircase.
"Have they found anything on the murder?" I tilt my head back to look at Michae.
His attention sweeps to the top of the marble steps to an empty black throne. "Still can't believe our king is gone."
It's where Ahren will sit as he rules the Shadow Court, and with that thought comes the ache in my chest. He pushed me away. Insisted it's due to responsibility, but I listened to the cracks in his voice. This isn't what he wants, so I need to dig and find out the truth, to make him understand there is always a way to make us work.
I refuse to walk away. We were just beginning to bond, to get closer, and I will break down the gates of hell itself if it means I can claim him back.
"Not much," Michae says, pulling me out of my thoughts. It takes me several moments to remember what I had asked him. "But you know what's strange?" He leans in close to me. "Apparently there were traces of clove powder near his body. Either the fae who did this is clumsy or it was a deterrent."
"Clove, the spice?
