Page 167 of Wolfkissed
“I’m sorry, Princess. I really am. But I can’t watch you be abused by this man any longer. It’s driving me insane. I’ll kill him if I stay.”
“Valen—”
“If this is what you want, then I’m happy for you. Fucking thrilled. You got your happy ending with your human lord. I delivered you here safe and sound, as promised. Now it’s time for me to go home.”
Valen is leaving. I’ve known it all along. Yet, his words drove the blade home anew, and my heart is cut open and bleeding.
Why didn’t I run after him, say yes? Yes, I’m going with you?
Why is it so hard for me to let go of my dead dream, when I know it’sValenI love and he loves me, too? Somehow, I’m still clinging to what is familiar, to the future I imagined, still trapped inside the cage of my own mind. Breaking the thread of the narrative that kept me sane all these years is hard.
Here is where I was supposed to find my future, my happiness. But I was so wrong. It’s not just the bruises and the feeling that a future with Lord Eorl will be bleak. It’s that I don’t care for him.
And I care for Valen.
I’m not staying here. I’m not letting Valen go without me. The thought is unbearable and terrible. Panic seizes me when I think of a life without him.
It’s all clear to me now. Hiding behind fantasies and reasons won’t work. Putting off the decision is a bad idea. Lord Eorl could lock me up until the wedding, and Valen will be long gone.
I won’t let that happen.
Re-entering the manor, I walk into the hall with its guests and servants. Lord Eorl’s gaze cuts to me the moment I approach the long tables. My head high, I make my way back to him. His glower follows me across the hall until I retake my seat.
I reach for my wine and take a sip. The musicians start to play. Fittingly, it’s a fast and furious tune. Furious, like I feel.
“Where is yourfriend?” Lord Eorl snarls.
“He left.”
He blinks at me, obviously not expecting this. “Good. Now we can try to clean up your image before we wed. Everyone’s been talking about your wanton behavior with h?—”
“I’m leaving.”
He watches me, a deep crease between his brows. He also takes a sip from his goblet and licks his lips. “Stop that nonsense. Where would you go?
“To the man I love, and who loves me back.”
He thumps the goblet back down. “What the fuck are you saying?”
I get up and brace my hands on the table. “Listen up, all of you!” I shout. “You were right, gossiping behind my back! I’m not Rosamund Briar. Rosamund is dead. I’m an impostor paidby Lord Eorl so he could get her estates. He lied to all of you, and those of you who had your suspicions… You were right. I’m leaving now. No wedding. No estates.” I shrug. “Such a pity.”
He’s on his feet, reaching for me. “You, how dare you?—?”
I step back. “I’m not your betrothed. Your future wife. Your anything. I have and want nothing to do with you. Not for all the estates and all the sweet revenge in the world. And if any of you ladies wish to marry him, beware, for he’s a monster. Not in appearance, but in his heart. He’ll tear you apart, break you and dance on your pieces. You’ve been warned.”
“Guards!” he roars. “Get her!”
But I don’t wait for anyone to move. Gathering my skirts, I run around the tables, keeping close to the wall and out of the way of servants who are only just twigging to what happened. The door to the garden is slightly ajar, as I left it when I entered moments ago. Shoving it wider, I race out of the manor, taking advantage of my element of surprise. Nobody would think that I’d run away, taking nothing with me.
Yet, here I am, leaving it all behind and not caring.
I cross the garden, running past gardeners and workers who stare at me in disbelief. The iron gate of the estate is barely open, and I fear I won’t be able to squeeze through, but I do.
Then I run full-out toward the grove where I last saw Valen’s friend.
“Valen!” I yell. “Valen! Where are you? Konstam! Darian! Help!”
No reply reaches me. My heart hammering, my lungs seizing, I run into the grove and slow down. Birds flutter on the branches of the trees. A small animal dashes through the undergrowth.
