45. Princess Davina
Chapter 45
Princess Davina
“Truth is always a delusion.”
— Friedrich Durrenmatt
H e definitely kissed me.
“If that had happened,” he adds, “every detail would be burned into my mind.”
“So, what? Are you telling me I’m insane?”
“No,” he says, raising his hands, “that’s not what I’m trying to say.”
“Why are we both having different memories of that day?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, gesturing for me to sit down. “Tell me everything you remember.”
“I vividly remember you sliding your tongue in my mouth.”
His eyes flare. “I remember leaving because you begged me to.”
“Stop,” I choke out, struggling to admit to myself that I might actually be losing my mind. “I—I…”
He nods slowly, listening attentively.
“If you’re telling the truth, then I… Am I losing my mind?”
He curses under his breath, running a hand over his face. “Shit.”
“What?”
“You’re hallucinating.” He starts pacing, his movements frantic. “You are hallucinating, without a doubt. It’s probably because you haven’t discovered your second power yet. First, you collapsed, and now you’re hallucinating.”
I scoff, the sound bitter. “Perfect.”
“Well,” he continues, his voice rough, “I guess that explains why you thought I had a fiancée. You hallucinated that part of that conversation with Rafe.”
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut—I freaked out and ran away, only to find out it wasn’t even real.
“You’re going to rest today,” he says. “And tomorrow evening, when I’m back, we’re going to fight like we did before. Perhaps fighting will trigger something inside of you, and you’ll finally unlock that second power. I’m worried you’ll fall into that damn slumber if you don’t?—”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“ Fine .”
“I’m sorry, Davina.”
I blink up at him. “For what?”
“For what he did to you. For putting his fucking hands on you. For the fact that you’re hallucinating.” He hovers over me, looking down as I’m sitting on the bed. “For the fact that you think we’ve kissed.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” I mutter. “I’m used to making a fool of myself by now.”
He tilts up my chin, his thumb brushing slowly along my lower lip in a gentle, almost reverent motion. “Don’t think for a second,” he says slowly, “that I’m not aching to kiss you.”
I swallow and look away, unable to hold his gaze any longer.
“I’m desperate to,” he adds, “ dying to, actually. But not under these circumstances.” With those final words lingering in the air, he turns and leaves.
He leaves me breathless, thinking about him for a ridiculous amount of time.