Page 68 of Heart of the Summer Queen

Serene though the view may be, it does little to dampen the heaviness weighing on my heart.

Elaric says nothing throughout the entire morning. The flight back to Belinda’s woods will take a whole day and then we’ll have to trek through the woods to reach her cottage. If he maintains this silence for that long, I’ll be driven to madness.

With a deep breath, I tear away from the window and force myself to look at him for the first time since leaving the forest.

Everything within me constricts as his bright eyes meet mine.

“Elaric,” I mutter.

The haziness in his eyes vanishes at the sound of his name. How I wish I could read his thoughts, now more than ever. If I knew what he was feeling then I could be confident in saying the right thing. As it stands, I fear the wrong words will only worsen matters.

“Last night . . . ” I start.

“Last night was a mistake.” His voice is firm. How I wish it was a broken whisper.

It takes everything in me not to flinch. I don’t know why it catches me by surprise, why it hurts. His actions last night made his feelings transparent.

“A moment of weakness,” he adds, driving guilt deeper into me.

Tears sting my eyes. I turn and face the window so he doesn’t see them.

My fingers curl around the window ledge. I ground myself in the present by focusing on the way the harsh edges dig into my palm.

Yet my frantic thoughts aren’t so easily extinguished. All I want is to stand up and demand to know whether wrapping his arms around me was also a weakness, whether his attentiveness toward me was also a mistake. But I don’t. That would be selfish.

He deserves better than me.

When Elaric next speaks, his voice is as frigid as winter. “It will not happen again.”

twenty-five

I avoid meeting Elaric’s gaze for the rest of that afternoon, dreading the cold scorn I’ll find there. Though deserved, his words cleave my heart. It takes all my strength not to collapse and release the tears clamoring for escape.

The tension within me coils ever tighter, surging into a pounding headache which threatens to crush my skull. My thoughts cycle between our ruinous wedding night and the disaster of last night, each recollection a fresh stab of anguish.

I know this self-torture serves no good use, yet I cannot stop it. I should slam my eyes shut, force order on my chaotic emotions before they shatter what little composure remains.

But I cannot escape the knife I drove through my own heart. His words were not unfair, only the truth. I orchestrated this tragedy through my pride and fear, and now I have no choice but to endure it.

Merciful exhaustion drags me into dreamless sleep, sparing me the nightmares which would leave me weeping. I never want him to see such fragility in me again.

I’m unsure how much time passes before Elaric’s voice wakes me.

“We’re here,” he says. It’s a slight relief that no disgust lingers in his tone.

All reassurances vanish when I dare to lift my head and meet his cold eyes. Air flees my lungs as his bitter words echo in my mind.

Last night was a mistake.

A moment of weakness.

It won’t happen again.

Thirteen words, I count. Thirteen words were all he spoke, and yet they were enough to destroy me.

I focus on the trees ahead of us, on the wind rustling through their leaves and try to steady my frantic pulse.

Elaric rises and grabs the sack from beside me on the bench. Before I can offer to carry it, he whirls around and marches out the carriage.

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