His pause is tense as his posture. “You know my past. You know…The last time I cared for someone…The way things ended…”
Enid.
He’s talking about Enid.
I suck in a sharp breath.
“Don’t you understand?” A ragged note enters his voice. His eyes burn with flames as they hold mine. “I cannot do that again.I will not do that again.Not now. Not ever.”
And there it is.
Finally.
The truth.
Whatever fleeting attraction he feels for me, he will not allow himself to explore it. His avoidance since our return to the capital is suddenly so painfully clear, so devastatingly transparent.
The distance he’s been keeping from me since the kiss?
His way of reestablishing control.
The new wall between us, impossible to scale?
His method of reclaiming any forfeit autonomy.
He deals with his attraction to me by blocking it out entirely. By pretending it does not exist at all. ThatIdo not exist at all.
I might laugh if I weren’t on the brink of tears. Because the true ache of it is, Idounderstand. I understand all too well. He would rather push aside any possibility of love than pursue something that could put his power into a dangerous tailspin. He would rather act like we are nothing to each other than expose himself to more hurt, more pain. To another lapse of his rigid self-restraint—a lapse like the one he endured seventy years ago. A lapse that claimed the life of the woman he loved.
His need for control is stronger than anything he feels for me. We are—and always will be—a risk he is unwilling to take.
Gods, but that hurts.
It cuts me open, flays me to the bone.
“If you want to pretend that nothing happened between us, that’s what we’ll do,” I lie, heart hammering. “I’m happy to bury it. More than happy. Consider it dead.”
His jaw is so tight, I’m surprised his teeth don’t shatter. “Fine by me.”
Another lance of pain skewers my heart. Surely, I am bleeding inwardly by now?
“Thank you so very much for the escort, Prince Pendefyre,” I say with the icy politeness I usually reserve for Vanora and hercourtiers. “I’ll manage on my own the rest of the way. Have a pleasant evening.”
With that, I pivot on a heel as I stalk away, feeling a bit more miserable with every step he fails to stop me. I’m lucky it is a straight path across the bridge, for the tears that stream from my eyes come with such speed, it’s impossible to see where I’m going.
“Oh, Lady Rhya!”Teagan exclaims. “You look just lovely.”
In the mirror, a fair-haired stranger stares back at me. Weeks ago, I had gazed upon my own reflection and found a half-starved halfling with shadowed eyes, scarred wrists, and a broken spirit gazing back. The woman I see now is just as unfamiliar, yet no less shocking to the senses.
The benefit of steady meals and regular sleep cannot be denied. There is color in my cheeks and flesh on my bones. Some of my curves, stripped away during those long months on the run, have been restored to their former abundance. The gown hugs my frame and makes the best of my figure, plunging low at the bodice and cinching tight at the waist. Made of a pale gold silk, it shimmers in the sunbeams streaming through the tower windows.
Carys originally crafted it for a winter ball last Yulemas, but her customer had fallen ill on the eve of the event and so it sat, untouched, in her stockroom for more than a year. Despite its gilded luster, the design is rather simple at first glance—no frills or feathers to distract from its elegant lines or from my Remnant. But the back is spectacular. My spine is bare from nape to small. In lieu of simple sleeves, Carys has webbed panels of fabric together in a sinuous pattern that sculpts from the blades of my shoulders outward along the span of my arms.
Wings.
When I move, I look ready to leap into the skies. Each steplends the feeling of flight. I feel like a magnificent bird, a rare creature of the aether—an illusion only enhanced by the gold diadem that circles my forehead and dips down toward the bridge of my nose in a beaklike point. At the very center of the circlet, a stunning amber-hued gemstone gleams each time it catches the light. It is my only adornment—a gift I’d discovered this morning, tucked in the depths of the dress box along with a note.
Rhya,