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She couldn’t go straight there, not feeling as she did right then. With a rushed sense of urgency, she ran home, to her home… to Predian’s home. She dashed up the stairs and poured some water into a basin. With a shiver, she stripped herself bare and using a cloth washed the worst of everything from her skin. Nothing would take away the cling of his touch against her soul though. Her eyes were drawn to the far corner as she began to dress again, and she sighed as her gaze fell upon the soft folds of her wedding dress. She’d not even yet decided the color, and now she wondered if she’d even be able to wear it. She fought back the angry tears that tightened up her throat, and finished dressing in a simple tunic and kilt.
He needs me, she reminded herself. It doesn’t matter, married or not. He needs me.
Fingertips brushed against the fine silk fabric, then she rushed back down the stairs, nearly stumbling in her haste. Across the field she ran, and burst into Dartel’s home out of breath. He scowled up at her from his books.
“Be more quiet woman, this is delicate wording I must memorize.â€
But she heard him not as she strode across the room to drop at Predian’s side. He was still breathing, if barely, and she paused to whisper a soft prayer of thanksgiving. Gently, she took his hands in her own, and laid her cheek against them. His flesh was clammy, chilled to the touch but she paid it no mind.
“I shant lea’e yer side again Predian, fer anything. I’m here fer ye. I’m here m’heart.†Kissing his knuckles softly, she finally allowed herself the tears for her transgressions. Dartel ignored the heartbroken woman, eyes intent on his tomes, eager for the ceremony he was researching, and the opportunity it presented.
***
Rhalm heard the noises above her, the sounds of sex, and the argument between the pair afterwards. Every word cut through her heart like a knife, hurting her more deeply than she could ever remember feeling. She had thought Kaidric a good man, with a tragic past that held him back, but now she found he was darker than imagined and it frightened her. She could not stay another moment in that house.
Quietly, she packed her belongings into a small satchel. There were not many, just a few changes of clothing and a staff or two. When the door slammed upstairs her heart leapt into her throat. Softly, she moved to the stairs to listen, and heard nothing. Yet, inwardly she knew he was still there. Waiting for something. A momentary wish to speak to him, to understand him passed through her, but she pushed it aside. This was nothing she wanted any part of.
Carefully, she crept up the stairs, and saw him sitting blankly, staring at a wall. He was still unclothed and she averted her eyes. Any remote attraction she might have felt for him had been burned out of her by the words uttered just moments ago. On leather clad feet she padded to the door, staying against the far wall.
Perhaps he heard her breathing, perhaps he felt here there, but he turned not nor acknowledged her presence. Her hand rested against the door handle, and without a backward glance, she pushed it open, and stepped through into the morning light, and was gone.
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