Chapter 42 #3
Her lips thinned in anger. “You can’t possibly tell me my sins are worse than yours,” she shot back.
“Or did those women drop dead in the middle of the woods with their throats ripped out of their own accord? What really happened to the mistresses you had before me? Hmm? Can you honestly tell me they’re alive and well? ”
It was the first time she had ever mentioned it, bringing to light what she knew.
Surprise coloured his face. He had well and truly thought she was too daft to pay attention to the writing on the walls, the clear evidence he was a monster in every sense of the word. Her lip curled in disdain.
He half shrugged, waving his hand dismissively. “All of that is a secondary argument. You are who we are talking about. I have only ever treated YOU with care and respect.”
He gave her a self-assured expression—sure that he had won.
The casual dismissal of murder, of women who might have grown to care for him as she had, made something sharp twist in her chest.
This was who she had fallen for. A demon who killed without mercy or care and shrugged it off, like their deaths were no more of a nuisance than a bit of spilled wine.
“It is not a secondary argument. It is the centre of the argument, actually,” she said, acidly.
He stood up abruptly, and she felt the absence of his warmth like a physical wound.
“What about that angel you hang around? A bastard,” he hissed. “You’d rather be with him than me?”
“How—”
“I’ve seen you two together. He’s poisoned you against me, hasn’t he?”
She lifted her chin stubbornly. “You’ve poisoned yourself against me. The angel had nothing to do with it.”
“So, being my lover makes you feel … what? Like you are straying from the light? Becoming evil, like me?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Get out,” he cut her off.
His words slapped her. “Caspian, I—”
“Out.”
No. Panic clawed at her throat, a war raging inside her.
“What? Can we talk about this?”
“Get—the—fuck—out of my sight.”
Elizabeth wanted to fight. Wanted to scream.
She inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to regain a sense of calm so she wouldn’t say anything out of anger. Closing her eyes for a moment, she searched for the words to explain what she had been trying to say in a way he would understand, and fix what lay broken between them.
“OUT,” he commanded, pointing an angry finger towards the door.
She pressed her lips together and decided to say nothing at all.
She held the sheet to her body as she walked to the bathing chamber, each step feeling like walking to her own execution. Her hands shook as she laced up her gown. When she emerged, she looked at him sadly, and his face twisted with anger.
Her gaze dropped to the flagstones. She blinked to stem the burning in her eyes, taking a moment to master herself.
She lifted her face to cast a final look in his direction. Caspian’s brows remained knit, and his expression didn’t soften. She waited for him to stop her, to apologize, and make it right. But he didn’t say a word, and when she looked into his eyes, they were wreathed in silver flame once more.
“That’s it, then?” she asked.
Caspian turned and stared out the window, resolutely ignoring her.
It was childish and rude, and yet, she wasn’t surprised at all. Her heart was cracking in two, and he crossed his arms and continued to face away from her, as if it meant nothing to him.
How had she fallen for such a cruel beast?
She sniffed and refused to cower, straightening her spine—reverting to the very pride he’d accused her of. If he wanted to cast her out, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of begging him to stay. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply he had cut her.
She left his chambers and waited for a couple of heartbeats, sure that he would come running—to apologize, to stop her from leaving—but the hall was silent.
Determined to look indifferent as she walked back to her chamber, Elizabeth held her head high.
She splashed cool water on her face and changed into her nightgown. Intending to read for the rest of the evening, she grabbed a book and sat in the chair by the window.
Outside, raindrops plinked against the windowpane.
Elizabeth brooded while her book sat in her lap, unread.
The windows stretched from floor to ceiling, edged in gold—another reminder of the luxurious life she had, all because of him.
The rain fell harder, lashing against the glass, and she wondered if he had been right. Was there any truth to the words he had hurled at her?
Her eyes burned, a tear threatening to escape. Elizabeth blinked furiously, refusing to let herself cry. Refusing to admit weakness, even in private.
Movement outside caught her eye. A dark, winged beast tore through the storm, fleeing the castle as if he couldn’t stand to be in the same place as her for a second longer.
Only then did she break.
The burning in her eyes intensified, and a lone tear slid down her cheek, quickly followed by another. Elizabeth leaned her head against the windowpane and gave a shuddering exhale.
She knew it was for the best. What they had would have ended eventually. She had known that from the beginning. She only wondered why it hurt so much.