Chapter 45 #2
Despite wanting to hold on to my anger, it begins to slowly deflate. Each word Adrian utters is like a sword poking holes in a shallow wooden boat, the water seeping in until the whole thing goes under.
I still can’t find my words, but Adrian doesn’t seem to notice—so far into an alcohol-induced haze that he just keeps going.
“I really am sorry, Lunaria.” His voice cracks as his gaze meets mine. The change in his attitude is dizzying, from anger to sadness to remorse in the blink of an eye. “For lying to you about knowing what happened to Linnick, for thinking I had any right to tell you what to do.
“From the moment I met you, I knew you were different. Special.” His jaw flexes. “And I was terrified to lose you, because I knew how lucky I was to have you—even if that was for a brief moment. It doesn’t excuse what I did, but still… I’m so fucking sorry. I hate the way things ended between us.”
I want to be angry—to snap at him and tell him he was the one who ruined everything. But if I’m being honest, it’s hard to hold onto hate. Hate is toxic; it spoils joy and happiness, rotting them from the inside out.
If I choose to see him—see everyone in Crea—the way he views us, then that makes me no better than him. If I’m just going to repeat the cycle of blind hate, what’s the point of everything?
Tears well in Adrian’s eyes, and there’s so much guilt swirling in them that it causes my stomach to sink. Seeing him like this, it’s hard to ignore the pain he’s in. Without rage clouding my heart in this moment, I can see just how much he’s hurting.
Adrian hesitates, then takes my hand in his. There’s nothing romantic in the gesture, but there is a desperation—a plea to believe him.
“I don’t want to be the man my father was,” he whispers. “I want to be better—a better man, a better king. And that starts with apologizing for the biggest regret in my life.”
I swallow down the emotions that rise in my throat.
More than anything, I know what it’s like to want to be more than the person who raised you.
I may not be ready to forgive Adrian, but in this moment, it’s easy to remember he was raised to hate my kind—taught to believe fae and everything in Penyth are evil.
He was groomed to think men have the right to say what’s best for women.
But now Adrian is old enough to decide for himself what’s right and wrong, and I just hope when the time comes…he chooses what’s right.
“You can be more than he was.” My voice is thick. I slowly pry my hand out of his, needing distance. His shoulders sag, and if this were a different time, I’d comfort him. But he has to learn how to comfort himself.
Avery’s words filter into my mind, something she said that has stuck with me.
“You decide your own fate, Adrian,” I say, echoing Avery’s advice. “You just have to be strong enough to take control of it.”
He nods his head and twists away from me, facing the bar again. “Thank you,” he whispers. “For not hating me.”
I wish I could say he was right. It may be the ale, but I find myself saying, “I never hated you. I only hated what you chose to do to me.”
A thick silence settles over us, not entirely comfortable but not intolerable.
The air shifts; I know Graylen walked into the room before I see him. His warmth wraps around me, slowly creeping across my flesh and encasing me in a cocoon of delicious comfort.
Any lingering unease fades away as I feel the weight of his presence press closer.
“Having drinks without me, little princess?” he murmurs into my thoughts.
A small grin slips onto my face, and I look down at my half-empty cup, smiling into it.
“Took you long enough to get down here,” I send back playfully, imagining his dark hair messily styled but somehow looking like he meant for every piece to be laid where it was. “Too busy fixing your perfect hair?”
Heat prickles at my back, and I know he’s right behind me, but I stop myself from turning around. Adrian looks like his old self—what will seeing Graylen be like?
“You’re right.” A soft chuckle tickles my ear, sending goosebumps skittering down my neck. Cool air brushes against my back as he moves away. “It is perfect, isn’t it?”
I shake my head and spin around, about to tell him he’s a perfect pain in my ass, but when my eyes land on him, the words don’t make it out.
It’s nothing like seeing Adrian when I first walked into the bar.
Memories flood my mind of the first time I met Graylen. He stuck out of the crowd at the ball just like I did, not fitting in with the colorful outfits and bright smiles. There was a cloud over his head and an uncaring aura that permeated the air around him.
The tension from the past few weeks melts away as I look into the face of the Graylen I used to know. Unlike Adrian, he does not look like a simple farm boy.
He’s wearing a black long-sleeved leather tunic and matching leather pants. The top part of his shirt is open, revealing a touch of his toned chest. His boots stop just below his knee, looking far more expensive than what he should have been able to afford.
Silver rings line his fingers, sparkling against the glowing lights of the tavern, and his nails have been painted black.
There’s a smirk on his face that is so…him.
The Prince’s Snake.
And he looks ready to devour me.