21. Laurel
LAUREL
That arrogant, condescending blockhead.
How had I been so deluded as to think I ever loved him?
He was controlling and critical and so determined to be right about everything and he did it all without an ounce of emotion.
He had just stood there acting as though I was the problem for being reckless and foolish and he didn’t have any blame to share.
I wasn’t going to cave. I wouldn’t become one of the weepy, miserable girls who needed a man no matter what.
I stomped back to the servants’ sleeping quarters, my cloak snapping around my legs with each furious step. No one followed me or shouted after me. No one recognized me at all.
See, Baron? I thought bitterly. I know what I’m doing. No one caught me.
Impulsive, indeed.
I would show him. I would find a way to get all the information we needed without his help. I didn’t need him. I didn’t need his warnings, his careful plans, or his constant insistence that I should stop and think.
I didn’t need anyone.
By the time I reached my straw tick, my anger had settled into something hot and tight in my chest. I didn’t even bother to undress or put on one of the ludicrous nightgowns the servant girls always wore.
I threw myself down fully clothed and stared into the darkness above me, fighting back the hot tears prickling at the backs of my eyes.
I didn’t want to cry, but my chin quivered and a tear slipped out anyway.
How could I have shouted at Baron like that?
I’d been so sure I loved him. We had been through too much together to throw it away, and yet that is exactly what I had done.
Had I just given up the only man I’d ever loved?
Had I just destroyed any chance of future happiness with him?
How could I ever be with someone capable of such brutality? Then he had tried to turn it on me and pointed at all the deaths I’d been responsible for, as if that made me exactly like him.
I wasn’t going to take it.
I couldn’t stop myself from being angry at Baron.
But mostly, I was angry with myself. Beneath all my anger and self-righteous indignation, a sickening, hollow sort of fear crept in to carve a home in my chest. What if I had ruined everything?
How was I supposed to complete this mission when we needed the information Baron could get, but every time I thought of his name, it felt as though a knife was shoved in between my ribs?
Our love wasn’t enough to withstand everything set against us.
But even as I tried to convince myself that walking away had been wise, another tear slid into my hair, hot and humiliating.
I pressed a fist against the impossible ache in my chest. The worst part was that I didn’t know whether I had protected my heart by leaving him, or shattered it beyond repair.