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She felt as if she shouldn’t leave. But she did.
As Verol had promised, his talk didn’t take long. The anger and dislike Numair usually felt from him was absent, as if it had melted into resignation. Verol only looked at him and said, “Don’t promise her things you can’t give her. Don’t hurt her.”
He knew it was over then, knew it even before he went home and found Alaric’s summons waiting for him.
Chapter Seventy-Four
Can’t and Doesn’t Are Two Different Things
It didn’t take long, only the short ride back to the house, for doubt to creep in over the spinning in Clare’s head. For the time away to feel like it had happened to someone else, for her to wonder what in Ferrian’s flames she and Numair had thought they were doing in the woods.
If he regretted it. If she should. She’d tucked the necklace pendant beneath her shirt but she couldn’t stop touching the outline of it.
She was so off-balance it took her twice as long as it should have to untack Kialla and brush her down, and Verol came back while she was at it, completing the same job with Skye in the time it took her to finish. Neither of them spoke. He wasn’t angry and she almost wished he was. She knew how to deal with anger because he didn’t get to be angry about her choices. She didn’t know how to deal with this…sadness? Fear? Regret?
They walked into the kitchen and Marquin was waiting for them. He rose abruptly as she walked in, something she would have sworn was relief crossing his face. “Are you all right?”
Her brows drew together in confusion. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“We returned and you were gone,” Verol said. “We had no idea where you were or if you were safe. I know we are not your parents.” At the look on her face, he hastened to add, “And I know you think you are too old to need any. Perhaps you’re right. But we do care about you. Did you give any thought to how we would feel that you’d left with barely a word and with no hint as to where you were going?”
“Did you?” Something she told herself was anger but felt more like hurt bubbled in her chest. “When you left me here without a single word, when I had to find out from Fitz that you were gone, did you give any thought to how I would feel?”
They shared a wordless look, as if, no, it had never occurred to them.
“You just left me here. You found out I was a Reaper and then you left without a word.” As if they hadn’t been able to stand being near her any longer. “I had to navigate this court without you, I had to deal with what I am without you and I had to deal with Alaric without you. You didn’t even bother to write. So forgive me if I didn’t realize you would even notice I was gone, much less care.”
“Clare…” Verol began, then trailed off, as if her outburst was unexpected and he had no idea what to say.
She shook her head and walked past them, heading for her room.
“Wait,” Quin said. “Alaric returned a day ahead of us. He was not pleased to find you gone and wants to see you.”
“Then I suppose I should clean up and attend my king,” she said acidly.
“We should discuss where you were,” Verol said. “It might be better if he believes you had our blessing for this excursion, and that requires us to present a united front.”
“That would require us to have one. Don’t trouble yourselves on my account. I have been handling His Majesty without you these last weeks. I don’t imagine it will be too much of a strain to continue doing so.”
She left, and she didn’t know if she was grateful or disappointed when they didn’t follow, when they didn’t try to apologize or explain.
She filled the tub in her bathing room with water so hot it turned her skin red and scrubbed until the dirt of travel turned the water murky. Then she drained it all and did it again, cleaning every inch of skin, under every nail, scrubbing her scalp until not a remnant of grit remained.
She couldn’t control Alaric’s summons, but she could control this—her body. How it felt, how it looked. And she did so obsessively.
Quin rubbed his hand over his face. “That…did not go well.”
“I never thought…” Verol dropped into a chair. “She never much seemed to care—if we were here or not.”
“I don’t think it’s ever been safe for her to care, before. Certainly never safe to express it. I imagine she’s feeling like it wasn’t, again.”
Verol was quiet a moment. “Was it like that for you?”
“When I met you?”
Verol nodded.
“In some ways. But it’s often easier, if perhaps more foolish, for people like us to trust a lover than a parental figure.” It was a gentle request to know what had happened when Verol had found her. Quin certainly hadn’t seen a trace of Numair when Clare, and then Verol, had returned.
