Chapter 39
ANNA
Weeks passed before she was well enough to leave the Sovereign Suite. The headache lingered, but it no longer made her dizzy every time she stood. The gray creature never returned, and she’d stopped trying to puzzle out what its message meant.
She belonged to no one. Of that she was certain.
In a soft white tunic and Isobel’s too-large leggings, Anna shuffled to the main living area at a time when she thought everyone would be out. She retreated, however, when the main door opened just as she reached for the knob.
David entered, his gaze on a thick book resting open in his hand. At the sight of him, golden and well-kept, something wrenched out of place in her chest.
He looked fine. No circles darkened his eyes. No hollowness sunk his cheeks. He was thriving without her, while she…
Fire seared through her emotional core.
She winced at the pain, her fist pressing against her heart as if it would make any difference at all.
He must have felt it, too, because he slowed to a stop, his gaze lifting to find hers. Pale green eyes remained unreadable. Inside, his ice had never been thicker.
She’d nearly forgotten how handsome he was.
The sharp angles of his face, the familiar curves of his mouth—she never thought such things would cause pain, but a sharp stab spread through her nervous system anyway, some wretched combination of missing him, wanting him, and fearing what was about to happen.
Where have you been?
With a decisive click, Rowilda closed the door behind him. The book in David’s hand snapped shut, and he dropped it to his side, keeping the cover averted so she couldn’t read it.
“She lives,” he said, letting his mouth stretch into an approximation of his usual smirk.
Anna stepped back. Her heart throbbed, picking up speed so that her headache sprung to life once more. “I was going back to my rooms.”
He surveyed the suite lazily. “Alone?”
“Er—yes?”
His brow lifted. “Aren’t you too sick to walk without assistance? Or have the rumors been overstated?”
“I’m feeling better.” She kept her voice even, though it wanted to crack. She longed to demand where he’d been. Why hadn’t he checked on her?
“Lucky you,” he said.
Her tone grew pointed. “You wouldn’t have to rely on rumors if you’d bothered to come yourself.”
A bitter flash of something lit his eyes but disappeared so quickly, Anna wasn’t sure she’d seen it. “Touché,” he said.
Silence.
She looked at the door, but he still stood before it, blocking her exit. As the seconds stretched, the hairline cracks that had appeared in her heart over the past lonely weeks crept outward like serpents. Intricate patterns of pain raced over the surface of her emotions, now drenched in alarm.
The look on his face, the hesitation in his posture—they forewarned of bad news.
She’d given him too much, hadn’t she? She’d placed her heart in his hands, thinking it was safe.
But it wasn’t.
She could see it in his eyes.
He was going to break it to pieces.
Her breath caught at the spiderwebs branching with unstoppable determination.
David’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I see your cage isn’t any stronger.”
“I haven’t had the energy to practice.” Her voice shook that time, and she winced, her temples throbbing.
He nodded and rocked on his heels. “That’s too bad. It would’ve made the next part a little easier.”
She stared, unable to dredge forth even a blink.
“Anna—”
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked. “Because I’m sorry—”
“No.” His soft voice sharpened to diamond, then faded to a hush. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. It just…doesn’t work.”
But it was working fine. Better than fine. The last night they were together, he’d stroked her hair and told her she belonged in his arms.
What happened?
“It doesn’t…work?” she repeated, the questioning lilt so pathetic, she fought the urge to shove him out of the way so she could flee the humiliation.
He ran a hand through his gold hair, and she hated him in that moment. Hated that the ruffled strands made him more handsome. Hated that he looked so good while stomping all over her heart.
“Anna,” he said, his tone now chiding. “I’m not…the one you…” He expelled a long breath. “You should have known better than to fall in love with me.”
“I’m not in love with you,” she said at once, the words too loud, too harried. His lips pressed together and he nodded again, though disbelief coated his body language like water drips from melting ice.
Why did she say that? Because of course he could feel it. Her denial was only an embarrassment, a useless attempt to save face in front of this man she wanted too desperately.
The cracks had almost spread throughout now, their painful, deliberate course hinting at the inevitable collapse.
“You are though,” he said, peeking up at her, Luster sparking in the green of his eyes. “Just a little bit.”
She swallowed down the pain.
“It’s barely anything,” he said. “Just a whisper. You’ve felt stronger things. Better things.” The falsehoods did little to convince her, but maybe he was trying to convince himself.
She sucked in a shaky breath. “You don’t get to tell me how to interpret my own feelings.”
“I’m not. But it’s true. We’re nothing. We were just fucking, and now we’re not. Easy. You don’t have to hurt over this.”
She didn’t have to hurt.
Did he really say that? As if she had a choice?
The pain turned barbaric, her own magic transmuting a simple breakup into physical torture. Anna glanced at the door again, aching to be free of him even though she knew it wouldn’t rid her of the pain.
Still, a self-destructive part of her had to know. “Can I ask why?”
He hesitated, his finger toying with the edge of his book. Without looking at her, he spoke, his words carrying the unmistakable cloak of ice. “We don’t make sense, you and me. Remember?”
Agony carved deep into vital tissue.
That was it? That was the only explanation she’d get?
We don’t make sense.
What had happened to this man?
He looked like himself. He used the same voice, wore the same face, yet he’d transformed into someone else entirely. She might have argued, fought even, but he’d caught her at such a low point.
While tears gathered, her headache returned full force, and she worried if she waited any longer, she wouldn’t make it back to her own room.
Remaining in this suite wasn’t an option any longer—sleeping between one man aiming to break her and another who wished to fix it all if only he could touch her skin to do it.
A longing to rip this magic from her body bloomed as the savage, shattered emotion clawed through everything. She had no name for it. It was nothing but pain, leaving a mushroom cloud where her sanity had been.
We were just fucking.
How could he say that? She’d given him so much, not just her body. Mustering every scrap of bravery inside, she forced her gaze to meet his.
Unfeeling smirk. Dead green eyes. Emotions so deep beneath the ice, they might as well not exist.
Still handsome. Always handsome. But cold.
She pointed at the door, still blocked by his body. “Can I go? My head is killing me.”
Instead of clearing the way, he stepped toward her, his free hand raised. “Please don’t break for me, Anna,” he said, and his voice was not cold. It was breathless and raw. Desperate.
That show of emotion was too much. What right did he have to be desperate while breaking her apart?
A tide of fire seared across her heart as it finally splintered to pieces.
Tears spilled from her eyes. “I think it’s too late,” she whispered, glancing down to make sure she wasn’t bleeding.
She should have been bleeding. For how much pain there was, there should have been blood.
“I’m not worth this,” he said. “Please don’t do this to yourself.”
She let out a harsh laugh as the tears fell. “I’m doing this to myself?”
He said nothing.
“You said you wanted me. You said I belonged with you. I gave you my heart because you said I could trust you. You’re the one who decided you didn’t want it. You’re the one who lied. And you’re blaming me?”
The colors in the room smeared together behind her traitorous tears, blurring his expression, though she doubted she’d see much anyway. David’s ice was impenetrable. She wiped her eyes to look, really look, wishing she could see the man she’d fallen in love with, but he was just…gone.
“No,” he finally said. “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I stood by and let you fall in love with the wrong man. I should have known better. Should have stayed away from you.”
She refused to listen to this self-hating diatribe. He spoke as if she played no part in the farce that was their relationship. She was simply a supporting character on his journey.
He stood aside as she brushed past, shifting his book so she still couldn’t read the title. “Anna…”
She stilled in the doorway to stare at his blank face, his casual posture. So dispassionate.
Maybe he’d always been this way, and she’d just ignored it. Maybe everything she thought she saw in him had only been fanciful imagination.
No words formed as he stared at her. He gave only silence.
Did she not deserve even a goodbye?
Anger split through the pain in her heart, electrifying the shards and flaring her temper. “Fuck you, David,” she said and left the room.