Chapter 10
Atight knot had taken root in my gut and refused to release me all morning. Even as I sat at the table piled high with food, my appetite was nonexistent, my foot tapping on the floor.
“Are you nervous?” Ewan asked. “You look nervous.”
Iaso elbowed him with a glare, the morning sun glinting off her golden armband. “Why would you say that?”
“Well, he does.” Ewan shrugged, his brows lifted as he sipped from his mug.
“That doesn’t mean you need to point it out,” she sighed and turned to me. “You shouldn’t be nervous.”
“Ah, yeah, no, don’t be nervous.” Ewan waved a hand through the air. “It’s just the woman you lied to for two years, fell madly in love with, and?—”
“I did not fall in love,” I bit out, my pulse hitching. Growing tension wound through my body and would burst a blood vessel soon.
He merely sighed and continued. “And then disappeared on.”
I closed my eyes, my hands balling into fists on the table. “I’m not a liar.” My shoulders slumped when I released a slow breath and raked a hand through my hair. “I’ve never been a liar.”
“We know that,” Iaso whispered.
“And she will, too,” Ewan added. “She’ll understand, Vaelor.”
“Will she?” I asked. For some reason, I didn’t think she would. “We’ve been friends for two years, and for two years, through hundreds of letters, I never once mentioned my name. My damned name. Doesn’t that feel…substantial?”
“A name is just that—a name,” Iaso said. “It’s not your person or your character. It’s not who you are, especially not now that your name is attached first and foremost to the crown. The King of Ravaryn would’ve been her first impression.”
“She would’ve kept her distance,” Ewan said. “Will she be angry that you lied? Maybe, but will she understand eventually? She has to. If everything you’ve told us about her is true, she will.”
“Let’s say she doesn’t care about the name. What of the last six months? We…danced, and then I left and ignored her letters.” The question wasn’t directed at them as much as it was my thoughts slipping past my lips, and they didn’t answer. These same few words had cycled through my mind since we received the notice that a second daughter of sorts was to be present at the meeting, repeating incessantly, spurred on by the panic that settled in my chest the moment I read it.
Elora was attending, and she’d see who I was—what I was. She’d see the web of lies I’d spun and have nothing to base her truth upon, which was why I’d asked her to meet me today before the meeting. She hadn’t responded to my letter, not that I deserved it, but she would be there, if for nothing but the truth.
I turned my gaze to the window overlooking the apple orchard. The number 424 scribbled at the top of her last letter haunted me still, despite that it’d been folded and on my person for over four months. I had always been the evens, she the odds. That had been our way for over two years, and she broke that, because I was a coward.
But that was nothing compared to her words: “I’d say I’ve paid my debt by now, hmm?”
Two years of friendship reduced to a debt. That was what it was, wasn’t it?
Repayment.
“I’ll see her at the meeting, regardless of whether she forgives me.” I sighed, turning back to Iaso. “She hasn’t told Godrick of me, nor his daughter. Well, she hadn’t when we spoke six months ago.”
“I doubt she has now,” Iaso said. “If she hadn’t in the years you two were friends, she wouldn’t now that you’re…”
“Not,” I finished for her.
“You don’t know that yet,” she said.
“No, not yet.” But I will in a few hours.
“What are you going to do if she does forgive you?” Ewan asked.
I opened my mouth to answer, but the words died on my tongue. I hadn’t thought that far ahead because that scenario felt too easy, too good to be true.
“I don’t know.” I brought my mug to my lips and stifled a groan after taking a sip—cinnamon apple tea. I glared at Iaso’s innocent expression, placing it back down on the table.
To be utterly honest with myself, I wasn’t sure I wanted her forgiveness. That would reopen the door I had slammed shut six months prior and everything would come rushing back: soft smiles and letters and whispers and exciting secrecy. If that door did reopen, I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to close it again.
Fuck.
Today would decidedly be the last time I ever saw her. I would deny Godrick’s request to bring her next time. Regardless of the fallout or the lengths I would have to go, I would never see her again.
A deep pain rooted in my chest, but I ignored it. I couldn’t let myself feel this. I couldn’t let myself want her—Goddess forbid, love her.
It wasn’t fair to her. She said she thought she loved me.
I winced, my grip tightening on the handle of the mug.
This had gone too far, much farther than I ever intended.
Today, I would say goodbye.
Today, our friendship would die in that orchard, along with any love she thought she held for me.
Today, I would crack my heart in hopes of preventing its shattering.
Our cottage wasn’t farfrom the orchard, so I had left only minutes before noon, and they beat me here.
Yes, they.
I saw her first, and my heart stopped. She was dressed in…apple blossoms, her long hair curled softly and swaying around her waist.
She was stunning—an orchard nymph—but she wasn’t barefoot, and that didn’t feel right.
Then, I saw who trailed behind her: Godrick, right on her heels with a hopeful smile on his face.
My brows furrowed in confusion until I saw him.
My heart thundered, and the skies shortly followed. Somewhere off in the distance, lightning cracked across surging clouds.
Evander stood in my orchard, holding my flowers, waiting for my mate.
Pounding in my ears drowned out any sounds of nature. I was too far away to hear their conversation, but I didn’t need to hear what the bastard was saying. I could see it plainly from where I stood as he pulled something small from his pocket.
My vision tunneled on what he held, the clouds overhead growing denser, blotting out the sun and sending them into thicker shadows beneath the trees.
I had never been a jealous person, nor an angry one. I didn’t crave violence.
But when he knelt on one knee before her, I was no longer myself.
Suddenly, I was wrath incarnate. I wanted to spill his blood directly onto my palette—the perfect red to paint Elora’s teasing, ruby lips. I wanted to use his bleached bones to build a throne for her to sit on at my side and feed his soul to the creature of night roaming the Cursed Wood so he couldn’t even meet her in the afterworld.
When she held her hand out, he slid the gold band onto her finger, and I lost all rationale.
Rain released from the clouds, pouring so hard, I could barely see them any longer, but I didn’t look away. Not as Godrick turned his face to the sky, shielding his eyes and glancing around like he knew I was near. Not as Evander shucked his coat off and placed it over Elora. Not as Elora smiled at him in thanks.
Smiled.
Mysmile.
My mate.
My Elora.
Tense muscles strained against my too-tight skin, sparks licking at my fingertips. White energy crackled over my forearms as I balled my fists, but I let it. It sizzled and seethed against the falling rain.
I stalked back to the cottage, soaked to the bone and filled with so much rage that when I finally slammed the door open, Iaso and Ewan jumped up from their seats in the foyer with matching looks of shock, followed by concern. Water pooled around my feet onto the floor as I met their gazes, one after the other.
The room, dark without the sun to brighten it, was lit with pale light, the lightning in my irises brilliant, burning, angry. Iaso stepped forward, her gold dulled by my silver.
“The plans have changed.”