Page 73 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
He waited for an answer, as steady as a pillar.
“I’m done for the day,” she said.
“You can’t—”
“I can do what I want. I’mdone. Go find yourself another training partner.”
He turned away and then back toward her, as if wrestling with a thought, and for a moment she was sure he was going to say something,explain, but then his shoulders squared, and he remained silent.
She walked back to the bench and snatched up her jacket. “You know, you aren’t the only one who’s been wounded.”
His gaze became ice, the armor he kept in easy reach back in his grip. “Really?” he said. “And yet I don’t see any scars on you. Where are they?”
His easy malice snatched away her breath. If he couldn’t see her scars by now, he wasn’t trying. “You can be sure, my scars are in placesyouwill never see.” She turned to leave but was stopped short by the solid wall. “The door,” she said, still facing the stones.
There was a slight shuffle of footsteps behind her, and the wall retreated, the entrance reappearing.
She glanced back before she left. “And just so you know, I won’t be at the hazel grove tonight.”
“Good. The sooner you join the rest of us at festivities, the better.”
Never missing a beat. Like he hadn’t lingered there with her every night. Like they never danced at all. Like he hadn’t felt the want between them. Maybe shewasjust an obligation in his rounds.
Her temples blazed. “Of course, Your Majesty. I have no good reason to dally. You can be certain I’ll never be late again.”
She stomped out the door, heading back to her room. Why did she even bother? Danu was just like all the other places she had skimmed in and out of her whole life. A stopover and nothing more. Deeper relationships were pointless. The last time she let her guard down, Mick had dropped her cold.Fool me once, she thought, as angry with herself as she was with Tyghan.
She felt a gaze on her back as she walked away, but she didn’t look back. She was done with that, too.
CHAPTER 49
It didn’t take much for Leanna Keats to decide it was a good time for her family to move on.
The crowds are thin here.
The shoppers are tightfisted.
The sun’s too hot.
Moving on did make things easier in some ways. It hid your mistakes, and Bristol had made plenty. It wouldn’t be the first time she had imagined a bond where there was none—when she imagined something more when there was only something less. Maybe all of it was her own delirium, a need to connect to something more meaningful. Something lasting. Something worth staying for.
We’re practicing sticks. That’s all.
It shouldn’t have bothered her, really. From her first relationship at fifteen in the back of a van, to her last a few months ago with Mick, her life had been punctuated with breezy interludes that had all the nuance of a vending machine sandwich. Fast, easy, and forgettable. But what if you didn’t want to forget? What if you still wanted more?
Let’s go to the shore. Some salt air would be nice.
I hear the crowds are good at the Surrey Fair.
Move on.
It’s a good time to move on.
Her mother’s infuriating ways called to her. Maybe they always had. Move on.Run.Why was she fighting the urge?
Move on, because there was no good reason to stay.
Bristol lifted her hand to shade her eyes, swallowing away the knot in her throat. Storming down the path, she changed her direction and headed to Thistle Lookout instead, the highest point on the palace grounds. She would be late for her morning lesson at Ceridwen Hall.
