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Was he healing?
A confused Jareth battled around him, acting as a guard when Kaysar came to a complete stop. Had he yearned to let go of the past and lied to himself about it? Him, the unrepentant truth teller? Had he longed to move forward? Had he hoped for more? For better? Had he then passed the blade to Chantel, unable to make the cut himself, and blamed her for the outcome?
Surely he didn’t.
But what if he did?
The moment—the very second—he entertained the possibility, he had no defenses against it. The truth suddenly shined so clear. He had yearned and longed and hoped. To protect himself from the pain of letting go of his past—his sister—he’d let himself believe Chantel had betrayed him.
He’d betrayed himself. What was worse, he’d betrayed her.
An agonized groan burst from Kaysar, regret and shame slicing his calm to ribbons. He’d hurt the only person who’d loved him.
You protect, honor and respect what you value—or you lose it.
He’d owed Chantel everything, yet he’d treated her like garbage. Would she forgive him? He wasn’t sure he could forgive himself.
He...he... Why were the trolls forgetting about his presence? The troll army had ceased fighting; the soldiers faced the fortress where poisonvine slithered down, down, down the walls, sweeping over the battlefield, catching trolls without squeezing the life from them.
Heart in his throat, he cast his gaze higher... A woman stood upon the throne room balcony, sipping from a wineglass. Pink and sable hair danced in the breeze. A half top squeezed her breasts together and bared her perfect midriff. A pair of tiny blue shorts possessed so little material, the inside pockets stretched beneath the hem. The strangest boots rode to the center of her calves.
Kaysar clutched his chest and stumbled. Had any female ever exuded such magnificent beauty?
Desperate to win back the greatest gift he’d ever received, he flittered to the balcony.
“Hello, Kaysar.” Chantel’s voice was a light in a dark, barren wasteland. A beacon.
He had to plead his case. Had to get past her hurt and fury. Could he? “Chantel—” When he stepped toward her, she halted him with a vine. The thorns pierced his torso.
“My foes aren’t allowed near me...unless I’m about to kill them. Also, you can call me Cookie.”
He held up his hands, palms out, while bellowing curses internally. “Chantel. Cookie. I will call you anything you wish, but I will never be your enemy.”
“I’m confused. Are you or aren’t you the man who tossed me out of my home? Didn’t you issue an edict that I wasn’t to be harmed by others so you could harm me?”
He flinched. “A thousand times, I almost went through the doorway to find you.” Only three things had stopped him: his wrongly directed rage, his utter stupidity and Eye’s assurance. “I should have done it, despite Eye’s assurances about your safety. The regret I feel now...” It had begun to claw at him.
She’d tried to warn him, hadn’t she?
With a slow, easy drawl, she told him, “Maybe we’re not enemies, but we’re definitely not friends, either. So don’t give the past another thought. It’s over and done. Now we move on.”
Over and done? If only. Move on? Never. He scrubbed a hand over his face. How could he reach her? “I long to make amends. I’m so sorry, sweetling. I—”
“Sorry?” She chuckled. The awful thing? She actually sounded amused. “You don’t need to be sorry, Kaysar. I actually understand your anger and your actions. I’d even expected them. And honestly, looking back, I can see I missed a crucial fact. You’d already had your free will taken from you once before, yet I callously did it again. For that, I’m sorry. But you took away the only things that matter to me. My home and my family. I can’t trust you not to do it again.”
The words were a blow, but he persisted, trying to explain. “When I saw Hador’s body, I felt as if I lost my sister all over again, as if I failed her in every way imaginable. I lashed out. Admitting that you’d done what a secret part of me hoped you’d do meant I had to admit that I allowed her to be lost to me a second time. That I wanted to let go.” The guilt ate at him even now, but its razor-sharp teeth had dulled. “I am so sorry,” he repeated.
“It’s fine, Kaysar. Really,” Chantel said after sipping her wine. “I’ve remembered more of my time with Jareth. Who knows? Maybe there’s something there.”
Panic and jealousy frothed. He tried again to step forward, to touch and hold her, but the vine pushed him back. “I love you. With every part of my being, I love you. If you wish to be with Jareth, I...I won’t stop you. But please, sweetling, give me a chance to prove I can be the better male for you.”
