AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Listen to me. It’s not all your fault—I . . . I used you too,” she confessed. “You’re not the only one to be blamed in this mess.”
“I should have protected you better, fought for you more,” he said, downing his second drink and setting his goblet down with a force that made her flinch. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell where the role ends and I begin.”
Anthea took a step forward, reaching behind him and grabbing the second glass. She lifted it to her lips, never taking her eyes from his while downing the whole thing. When finished, she slammed the goblet with as much force as he had.
“I can relate to that.” Anthea gave him a bitter smile.
“What—”
But she didn’t let him start. “Back at my world. I . . . I worked for a company that in essence cleaned the reputations of the vilest people. When they had done something . . . unsavory . . . horrible—they contacted this company, and it was our job . . . my job to make sure they’d come out clean.” Anthea let the words spill. She hadn’t ever voiced it, and now it felt as if the dam had broken. She couldn’t stop. “I was good at it, crafting these little lies, scrubbing their stories clean, throwing mud at their victims. I convinced myself it was just something I had to do, a role I had to play—that I had to do this to protect my family . . . that . . . that it wasn’t really me who was doing all these things . . . who was hurting all those people.” Her voice broke at the last part. Endreth caressed her cheek. She leaned into his touch for just a moment before stepping away. “I’m not who you think I am. This vulnerable, lost woman you saw in the Crimson court—I saw that it worked on you, and . . . and I used it. I used you.”
It was his turn to give her a bitter smile. “Well, aren’t we a pair. Aegonar did say you had me wrapped around your little finger.”
“I’m—”
The Crimson prince cut off her apology, reaching out and pulling her into his embrace, steady arms encircling her. Anthea wrapped her own arms around his middle, melting into his hug. He smelled of sea and felt like safety. She had missed him. His heartbeat was a steady rhythm against her ear. For a few moments, they stood like that, finding comfort in each other.
Then, Endreth broke the silence. “Anthea, the night on the ship . . . I’m sorry I wasn’t gentler with you,” he said, making her take a sharp intake of breath. The prince tightened his arms around her, not letting her step away. “I . . . I kept thinking about what you had told Alyra about me, and?—”
“You knew about that?” Anthea whispered into his shirt, avoiding his eyes.
“Yes. She was instructed to get close to you. You were right. I lied to you about that too.”
So many lies.
There were so many lies between them.
Drawing back slightly, Anthea tilted her head up to look at him. “If you could be anyone, who would you be?”
He looked at her for a long moment before answering. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve had to be the prince, the dutiful son, the face of my court. There’s been no room for me to be anything else.”
“But if you had the choice?” Anthea pressed, “Who would you choose to be?”
“I would choose to be someone who can make his own decisions,” he said. “Someone who doesn’t have to hide behind masks, to pretend. Someone who can love freely, who can fight for what he believes in. I would choose to be a male free from the shackles of duty and deception.”
“I wish you could do that someday, Endreth.”
Endreth looked down at her, his hand reaching out to gently touch her cheek again. “I wish I could give that to you too,” he said softly.
They stayed like that for a moment more. Then, Anthea broke the silence again.
“Let’s not let the wine go to waste,” she said.
A chuckle escaped his lips. “Wine, you say?” he replied.
She nodded against his chest.
Breaking their embrace, he moved to fill the two goblets again. He turned back, handing her a glass with the amber liquid.
“To freedom and choice,” Anthea proposed, raising her glass slightly.
Endreth raised his glass in response, tapping it gently against hers. “To freedom and choice,” he echoed.
And so, they drank . . . and talked.
As the evening drew on, the candlelight flickered off the walls of the room, casting warm and soothing shadows. Their conversation flowed easily, naturally.
Endreth listened as Anthea finally talked about her life back in her world. She spoke more about her job and how she constantly had to portray an image that wasn’t entirely her, to always maintain a front. She spoke of her family, of her parents who had always expected her to make something of herself, of her younger sisters who had looked up to her and to whom she never really could confess what she did at work, never could let out how much it drained her.
