They just stared at each other as the carriage began to roll towards the manor.
He was beginning to fear that she wouldn’t say anything.
The tension between them was a living thing. It felt like it was choking him.
"You look very beautiful in black." He finally said to break the spell that seed to have been cast over the two of them.
She blinked and raised her eyes from her folded hands on her lap to his eyes.
"Thank you. You always do look good in black as well."
A smile threatened but he stifled it.
Then they fell into another uncomfortable silence.
He glanced out the window. The scenery without blurred before him.
"Well?" He prodded.
She looked at him and looked out the window.
"I just wanted to escape Lord Bronan’s company. He doesn’t believe my tale of being lost."
Neither did he, but he didn’t voice it aloud.
Instead, he said, "I should be pleased that I am a more preferable pasti."
She had the grace to look flustered.
"Pasti? It is ’’ who should be accusing ’you’ of seeing as a preferable pasti."
His jaw tensed.
"I tried to explain to you that I didn’t kill our child, but you wouldn’t hear anything I say because you have been looking for a convenient way to discard of and you finally found one. You claid that I didn’t admit to my nonexistent cris, but even when I did, you still turned away."
She ran a hand through her hair.
"You would drive mad, Yeren."
He glanced up at her unguarded use of his na.
It made sothing within him stir.
Then he realized that her hair was falling over her shoulders. There was a pin dangling at the side.
He reached to pull it out.
She didn’t move away, but she seed to have stopped breathing as his hand brushed the skin of her ear.
When he removed it, he handed it to her.
She took it and twirled it in her fingers.
Then she looked up at him.
"Did you ever feel anything for asides the hatred you currently feel? At any point in ti?"
Her question felt like a stake plunged into his heart.
But when he opened his mouth to speak, nothing ca out.
When no response was forthcoming, she turned towards the window. But not before he had seen the hurt in her eyes.
He reached forward to tilt her face until he could see her eyes, but she dodged his hand.
"Claire?"
Her shoulders stiffened but she said nothing.
"You do not have to lie to make feel better. Your silence speaks louder than your words ever could."
He clenched his fists.
"There is no lie when I say I do care about you."
Care about you? It sounded pathetic even to his ears. He cared about everyone in the Kingdom, didn’t he?
"That’s not good enough." She muttered quietly.
Yet that was the best he could do.
He desperately wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her. It was more easy to use actions rather than words.
But she looked like she was carved from stone, with edges so sharp he was afraid he would cut himself if he touched her.
The most honest thing he could do was to confess that he already knew that she wasn’t guilty and that he had already forgiven her - even though he hadn’t forgiven himself.
But the truth was always hard, especially if one had to admit they were wrong.
Like he terribly was at that mont.
Instead, he reached for her knee. He felt her tense but she didn’t move away.
"Maybe, it is better this way. A relationship between us is much too dangerous." He heard himself say.
Yeren was surprised that she nodded.
"I agree. Since I knew you, I began courting death. But..."
The carriage ca to a halt in front of the manor just then.
"It’s already too late now for to turn away, my days are numbered." Then she opened the door and slid out.
She entered her carriage directly from his and began to roll away.
He sat there in a daze.
He saw her guard erge with her things and handed them to her footman before mounting his horse and joining her.
What in the world did she an by that? Her days were numbered?
Her words in the drawing room flashed in his mory. But she had brushed it off.
There was sothing she wasn’t telling him.
Or had she tried to tell him but he didn’t listen to her?
He rembered when she was telling him of the wine he asked all of his council mbers to drink. She had been asked to drink it as well.
And she had hurried away before he could question her.
The thought of following her plagued him, but he knew how such an encounter would end.
Bitterly.
It always ended bitterly.
Gone were the days when she would end up in his arms.
She had begun to crave more... things he wasn’t sure he could give her.
Had she been right in telling him that he wouldn’t be able to love her the way she wanted to be loved?
Did he even love her?
He knew he cared about her, but there were limits to even his care.
Once his things were packed and brought down, he saw himself on his way to the castle.
He arrived there mid-afternoon.
As he entered the grand hall, the man in charge of the ball preparations saw him and rushed towards him.
"Your Grace!"
Yeren nodded at him, trying not to show how bored he felt.
"Yes, I have been aning to speak with you."
"Concerning what?"
"The the of the ball. You never did ntion it."
Yeren thought on it.
No the ca into mind.
Then out of the blue, he said "The dance of lovers."
And it pleased him, much more than he wanted to admit.
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