Of course that would be Corin’s perspective, and he’d never been a yielding, flexible type of person; when he had a moral stance, he stuck to it as stubbornly as any mule. He’d expect everyone else to follow the same code, because it was therightcode. Aster couldn’t even argue the point in the abstract.
Still. He had to make Corin understand that right or wrong, the die had been cast.
“I agreed to the betrothal, yes,” he muttered. “But I can’t go back. Even if I wanted to. Marellus would never marry me now. Not after I’ve humiliated him like this. And my parents won’t forgive me either, so it’s not like I could just go back to the way things were.”
Corin’s eyes flashed with a sudden fire. “Is it a family trait to publicly humiliate anyone you’re engaged to?”
Oh, God. His limbs went cold as a horrible jolt of hurt and shame shot through all of them. “But I—he—I’m—sorry,” Aster stammered. “Buthehumiliatedme, he—he would’ve made me watch!” he ended in a wail. “Watch him with someone else!”
Corin’s jaw dropped, his face going pale. “Fuck,” he said, sounding choked. “Fuck. Forget I—fuck.” And he slumped back into his chair, resting an elbow on the armrest and dropping his head into his hand, rubbing his bristly chin and his temples.
Aster sucked in a deep, gasping breath, feeling like he’d been released from an enchantment without the weight of Corin’s gaze on him.
But that relief only lasted a few seconds. “You’re right that the fault here isn’t all yours. But you have to go back,” Corin said heavily. “And you will. Not tonight, obviously. And not while the storm lasts. You can wait out the weather here. But that’s all.”
That cold lump in his belly that’d melted away a little bit in the warmth of the fire and the meal formed again with a vengeance. Aster nearly doubled over from the pain of it, regretting every bite of his food. He tasted beets, and not in a good way.
“Please, you have to—”
“No,” Corin said with absolute finality, and he stood up, brushing the crumbs from his knees with a brusque gesture that felt like a dismissal of Aster himself. “I’m sorry.” And he did sound sorry, which made it even worse. Corin would never pity someone he saw as an equal. “You can’t run away from this, and I won’t be involved in it. I need to go and see to your horse. No, stay here where it’s warm,” he said as Aster made to stand up. “The cold doesn’t affect me.”
Before Aster could muster another word, Corin turned and strode off across the hall to the door at the back. When he opened it, a gust of frigid wind roared into the hall; he slammed it shut, leaving Aster alone.
More alone, in fact, than he’d ever thought it possible to be.
He stared at the remains of breakfast, wishing it’d been a little later in the day and that Corin had brought out wine to accompany it.
If he had any, of course. This miserable place might not even be supplied with any. Though surely there had to be at least a jug of ale about.
Aster had never been able to hold his liquor. He didn’t get violent or belligerent, more’s the pity. That at least would’ve been understandable for a knight and a lord. No, he became maudlin, sentimental, and foolish, and the likelihood that he’d have drunkenly slurred his admiration for Corin’s physical, mental, and moral attributes—at great length—before weeping over his ill fortune was unfortunately extremely high. That, or begin begging Corin to let him stay.
He felt close enough to sobbing on the floor even stone-cold sober.
But now he desperately longed to numb his brain.
Brandy. Aster could destroy a bottle of brandy if opportunity allowed. He might be sick, but at least he’d stop hearing Corin’s voice sayingYou can’t run away from this, and I won’t be involved in itorIs it a family trait to publicly humiliate anyone you’re engaged to?over and over again.
Aster had always known he had very little in common with Belinda. And the first time someone ever suggested they might be similar, it wasn’t for shared beauty or charm or wit, it was for this. Of course. And it didn’t matter that Corin had realized he’d been unfair. He’d still thought it and said it in the first place.
The minutes stretched. The fire crackled and spat, and Aster added another couple of small logs from the pile on the floor. The hissing and popping became unbearable, and Aster moved his chair back to avoid getting little holes in all his clothes from the flying sparks.
Corin still didn’t return.
The wind howled around the tower, banging the shutters wildly. The tapestry on the opposite wall flapped and sent up a massive, choking cloud of dust. Aster eyed it suspiciously. Was that supposed to be a golden dragon? Probably, by the wings, but it looked more like a lumpy sort of scaled flying cow.
Ugh. What a horrific thought.
And with that, Aster had exhausted all of the hall’s available options for avoiding his situation, Corin’s opinion thereof, and anything else he desperately didn’t want to think about.
He looked around the room, but no. The fire, the tapestry, the shutters, the door. There really wasn’t anything else to absorb so much as a moment’s attention.
And Corinstillhadn’t returned. If he’d been human, Aster would’ve gone looking for him long before now, concerned that he might’ve gotten lost in the blizzard, or injured himself, or fallen victim to frostbite. And if their conversation had been any less fraught, guilt and affection would’ve had him out there too to pet and reassure Etallon.
But a dragon wouldn’t be subject to any of those dangers. Not in his own courtyard, anyway. And if Corin wanted to be anywhere near Aster, he’d have come back. His protracted absence sent a very clear message ofLeave me the fuck alone.
Well, message received. And it hurt, no matter how much Aster himself didn’t want to continue the discussion. It could only end with him begging or shouting and Corin calling him a great deal of things that would be both insulting and mostly true, likecowardandidiotandliarandjust like your faithless bitch of a sister except that she’s gorgeous and you’re not.
Screw it. He simply couldn’t sit there any longer—he’d go mad. So he stood, stretched, moved the board that’d held their breakfast to a bench further from the flames so it couldn’t kindle, and set off to see what else the tower held, if anything.
