“You won’t. You don’t trust yourself yet, but I trust Octavius, and I trust you. You won’t hurt me.”
Octavius had been wrong before. She wasn’t listening to logic, though.
Perhaps she’d listen to the truth.
His hand dropped. "I can't be what you want anymore. I'll be a terrible courtesan, too afraid to touch you, to be in the same room as you."
A small, humorless huff of air blew over his shoulder. "Don't be ridiculous, Castien. I never wanted a courtesan. I want you. If that means nothing more than this, than holding you, I don't love you less for it. Do you understand? I love you."
He once would have given everything for someone to honestly want only him – not the performance, not another song, not another pretty bedmate.
He swallowed. His heart broke.
His voice went flat. "I don't. I can't."
He had tried, hadn’t he? He had tried to convince her. This was the only path left to him.
She always saw through him. Her voice held a warning, "Castien, don't say what I think you’re saying."
He spat out the words, forcing his tone to be cold. "How can you expect me to love any woman, especially a noble?"
Her claws went still in his hair. "You can't make me believe you. Stop. Stop trying to hurt me. I know why you're doing this."
He never wanted to be the one to hurt her. But he had.
At least words wouldn’t kill her.
"How many times do I need to be tortured before I'm free of you?"
Truth rang in his accusations. Just enough to make him hate himself.
"Castien.” A tremor in her voice almost broke him. “You're cutting me for no reason. I know you love me. Stop hurting both of us."
There were tears in her voice. A little more, then. The Queen didn't cry. He willed her sorrow to become anger. She did it frequently in court, never shedding a tear for a dead servant but smiling that cruel, cold smile as the nobles walked the coals. He needed that Queen now. The merciless, heartless Dark Queen of the court.
“Love. I can love and hate you at the same time, my Queen. Do you really think I will ever know peace with you? If I stay, something else will happen. Why do you want to break me, if you love me?"
"Castien. Please. Don't make me beg. I will."
"Let me go."Let me die. "You're the one hurting me. You–"
She wrapped her arms around his chest and hugged him tightly, her head on his shoulder. “I need you. You're my comfort, my bit of softness in all this darkness. You're innocent and pure – that's who you are, Castien. Yes, even now, after everything. Especially now. Self-sacrificing fool. Let me take care of you. Let me love you. Let yourself have what you want. Stop pushing me away because you think that's what's best for me. I know what's best for me!”
He couldn't do this. He had to do this.
His voice wouldn't obey, and his tongue felt swollen in his mouth.
"I love you," she murmured thickly. "If you want to die, then take me with you. If you want to leave the palace, take me with you. But I refuse to believe that you hate me. Not like this."
He tried to force out the words that would make her walk away. He knew what would break her. Break them.
You're a monster. Damon was right. You're no better than your court and never will be.
His lips refused to part, and his tongue stuck to the top of his mouth. He couldn't. He had said too much already, and all of it was wrong.
His heart beat heavily. He was surprised it still beat at all. Sharp, broken remnants should be all that occupied the black hole in his chest.
Eventually, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
