Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
I can't allow that. This mine is no place for her.
I'm nearly to the entrance when a soft sound reaches me. I pause, trying to pick it out.
My heart cracks wide open when I realize what it is.
She's crying. The soft sound whispers from the mine, haunting and sorrowful.
I move in that direction as if drawn by a magnet, unable to stand there and listen when she needs me.
I slip inside the mine, pausing long enough to allow my eyes to adjust. Somehow, she's turned the cavern into something resembling a home. Rocks line one corner, with an emergency blanket she undoubtedly pillaged from the mine covering a bed of leaves and straw.
She dragged wood into the opposite corner, stacking it into a rough table. Berries and apples are piled on top. She found lanterns somewhere—the same place she found the blanket, perhaps—and strewn them around, illuminating the dirt floors and wooden walls.
The walls are covered with rough drawings of the stars and a moon, as if she needed to see them to remind herself they exist even down here.
She's curled up near the table, her arms wrapped around her knees, her tangled hair hiding her beautiful face. Her yellow dress is torn and dirty, the shoulder ripped almost completely away. There's an ugly scratch across her upper arm—the source of the blood on the fabric we found. Samson didn't lie about that, at least.
Her body shakes as she cries quietly. She looks so fucking small and miserable.
My heart bleeds. For the first time in days, she's in front of me. She's alive. And I've never seen her look so fucking sad.
"Thalia," I whisper, walking toward her. "Sweet Thalia."
"Not again," she cries quietly. "Stop haunting me! Just leave me alone already."
I'm haunting her?
"You're haunting me too, angel. Every fucking minute of the day, you haunt me," I groan, dropping to my knees in front of her.
Her head flies up, her sapphire eyes connecting with mine. "Troy," she gasps.
"Thalia." I reach for her, desperate to touch her, to prove to myself that she's real, that she's here, and that she safe.
She flinches away from me, tears pouring down her cheeks. "You aren't supposed to be here."
"Where else am I supposed to be if not where you are?"
She sobs, shaking her head as if to deny what I've said.
"I didn't send him, Thalia," I say, holding my hands out, palms up. "I swear to you, I didn't send him."
"You didn't send him?" The fragile hope in her voice breaks me. She wants to believe it so badly—I think deep down she already does—but she's so fucking afraid to trust that little voice telling her that I wouldn't do this to her. I can't blame her for that, not when her own father already broke her heart.
"I would never hurt you, angel. I could never hurt you. You're safe with me. You're always safe with me. So long as I live, no one will ever threaten you again."
Her shoulders slump, more tears spilling down her cheeks. "It doesn't matter what happens to me, Troy."
"Why not?"
She shrugs, her gaze fixed on the dirt floor.
"Tell me, Thalia."
"It doesn't matter."
"It does. Tell me."
She hesitates for a long moment and then sighs, lifting her gaze to mine. "It doesn't matter because the one thing I want will never be mine. You don't love me the same way I love you," she whispers, pure misery welling in her eyes.
I can't stand it anymore. I reach out, touching her cheek. Even though she doesn't want to do it, she nuzzles into my hand, shuddering.
"If you believe that, you haven't been paying attention, Thalia. My heart beats for you," I whisper. "I love you so fucking desperately I can't breathe through it."
Her eyes widen, hope and doubt warring in them. "You don't. You can't. Y-you don't know what you're saying, Troy. You don't know who I am."
"No?" I arch a brow. "Are you telling me that you aren't Princess Thalia Rosewood, my betrothed?"
Her gasp almost makes me smile. "You know?"
"I know."
"But—"
"I put it together that day in the forest, angel. I went to Stonehaven to tell my father and yours that you were mine and we were getting married. I had the marriage contracts revised to ensure that you would have your freedom if anything ever happened to me. Neither your father nor mine will have any say over you," I explain quietly. "I wanted to make sure that, no matter what, you never again feel like you need to run to protect yourself. When I got back to the cabin to tell you, you were gone. We've torn every kingdom in this part of the world apart looking for you."
"We?"
"Me, my father, and yours."
Her face pales. "My father is here?"
"I left him back at Stonehaven," I murmur, brushing my fingers down the smooth plane of her cheek. "He regrets what he said to you, princess. He regrets that he made you run."