Chapter Thirty-One #2
She needed to go home. She needed to talk to her parents, tell them of ó Connor’s betrayal, convince them to protect the kingdom.
Have them do what she could not. And then she could return to her place and content herself staying there.
Parties and gossip, clothes and dancing.
A strategic marriage. That’s all she would ever be.
“You’ve done a lot for me, and I appreciate it. But it ends here.” When the tears started to burn in her eyes once more, she didn’t bother to hide them. She was leaving—what would be the point?
Ronan stared down at her, his head shaking. She had never seen that look on his face. The raw hurt. The confusion and disbelief.
The urge to protect him, to share his burdens and lessen his pain, burned in her. Maybe she was a fool to still feel that way, but she couldn’t help it. This could be an elaborate act on his part, but if he could pretend what was between them was real, then for this moment, so could she.
“You did so much for me,” she admitted. “You put up with so much from me. I didn’t know what it felt like, before you—to have someone believe in me.”
As she turned back into her room, she felt his fingers wrap around her wrist. Electricity danced between them still.
“Don’t do this.” It was a whisper. A plea. “Clía, there’s a reason you’re here. You’re meant to stay and help us with this war.”
“I know the reason I’m here, and it’s not destiny or fate—”
“That’s not—”
“It’s because someone thought I might be useful. That my title might help them. But I’m pitiful, and a nuisance, and I’ll never be anything more.”
He sucked in a shocked breath. “What are you talking about?”
“Kordislaen told me himself. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Ronan released his grip on her. “Kordislaen said that?” His hand hovered near her cheek, warm and comforting.
Was he lying when he slept with me? The thought pierced her like a knife, and she leaned away.
“He also told me about the requests he made of you. To train me. To spy on me and everyone else here.” When she spoke, she didn’t look at him—she knew better than to trust, not again, but one look in his eyes and she would find herself all too eager to fall for more lies.
“Clía, I would never—”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, stopping him. “Everyone was right—I’m not meant to be here. The fact that I even thought I could possibly be good enough . . . They’re probably laughing right now. And I deserve it.”
“Everyone can see how talented you are! Anyone who dismisses you is a fool.”
“We both know who the fool is. ó Connor—he betrayed me and my kingdom. Despite that, I still didn’t want to kill him.
But I did. I don’t know what hurts worse: his betrayal, or mine.
” She ran a hand through her hair, desperate to collect all the broken pieces of herself.
“I can’t stay here anymore. I need to go back to álainndore. ”
“Please—” he started, but she cut him off.
“You made my days here brighter, and I’ll miss that.” I’ll miss you, a voice inside her whispered. “But I was always going to leave eventually.”
He stood in the doorway. She knew he was crafting the words that would patch her wounds and keep her here. And she would believe them; she wanted it too much. She couldn’t let that happen.
Grabbing the door, she closed it—forcing him out—and locked it.
The bronze doorknob turned several times before she heard him slump against the other side of the wood. His voice was muffled, but even the ancient castle walls couldn’t stop it from slipping through.
“How am I supposed to . . . ?”
She turned, staring at her room—a blank slate once more. She let herself crumple to the ground, her back against the door. She could almost delude herself that she was leaning against him.
“Clía.” There was silence for a moment. She wasn’t sure if he was still there, then she heard his voice again.
“I need you here. I know we said—It’s impossible and illogical, but, Clíodhna, I love you.
I’m not ready to lose you yet; I don’t know if I ever will be.
” His voice grew hoarse. “Please don’t do this. Not to me. Not to yourself.”
She wrapped an iron gate around her heart, holding it together and keeping his words from flowing in. How could she trust them?
Still, her arms yearned to embrace him. Her lips ached to feel his once more.
She stayed frozen on the ground, hands clenching the fabric of her shirt.
“I’m sorry.” His voice sounded as fragile as she felt. Like strong wind could topple it. “I should have told you earlier. I should have shown you how important you are.” Her arms curled around her knees. As if they could protect her from the pain in her heart. From the thoughts in her head.
Kordislaen had made her believe she was skilled, that she had potential. But it had all been a lie, so he could get information from her. This could simply be Ronan’s approach. After all, he idolized the general.
Her history with people didn’t reflect well on her judgment. She’d let others manipulate her, and use her, and she’d never predicted their true intentions, all because she’d believed they cared.
“Please, stay.”
She couldn’t trust her heart.