Fate's Woven Thread

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

        Zayn made his way to his chambers taking deep shaky breaths. He felt his knees buckle the very moment he set foot behind his doors. No.

        No. No. No. He thought repeatedly as he slid to the ground and knocked his head against the door. She wasn't meant to find out this way, not now. He wasn't ready, it was too abrupt. She wasn't supposed to be here. Why was she even here?

        He cupped his face in his hands and ground his teeth. How was he ever going to face her? What could he ever say to her that would make her believe he did not deliberately mislead her? His heart felt as though it had been trampled on by a calvary ten thousand men strong.

         He felt rather than heard the knocking sounds that came from the other side of the door. He was too muddle headed to hear the sounds but felt the vibration since he was practically plastered against the door.

         Brien's hesitant voice came then. "Milord? Milord? Are ye okay?"

         He cleared his throat and placed a fist over his aching heart, counting calmly in other to alleviate some pain. It wasn't working. "Aye Brien." His voice sounded raw and his throat felt dry. "I just need a moment alone."

         "Alright milord. If ye need me I'll be around." The sounds of footsteps going down the hallway came right after.

         He stood up and walked over to the window, subconsciously looking in the direction of the west kitchen. He imagined her face, that face usually filled with delight and acknowledgement suddenly contorted into one filled with blame and judgement.

        He could no longer stand the company of his own thoughts and walked out of his chambers. It felt suffocating behind these brick walls. He needed air, he needed an outlet, he needed her.

         He scoffed at himself as he headed towards the stables. What right did he have to need her? He was the usurper's son. The son of her parents' killer, even he wouldn't want to get involved with himself if he was put in her shoes.

          He'd lost her for sure this time. If only he hadn't given in to his fears earlier. She still might have hated him but at least she would feel less hurt his concealment, right? Probably not but one can only hope. His gut wrenched in regret as he saddled Clever.

         He looked back at the direction of the west kitchen once more before riding out.

         After spending hours riding, training and trying desperately to distract himself with whatever he could, he returned to the castle.

         He left feeling horrible and came back in a state even worse. He walked to his chamber to find Brien standing at the door, head lowered, and pacing restlessly. He proceeded to ignore him and walked right in.

         Brien noticed him then and looked up with a complicated gaze. "Milord."

        He sighed. "If 'tis not an emergency Brien, I really would love to be left alone."

         "Milord." Brien repeated, his gaze even more complicated. "The maiden at the west kitchen earlier today. You seem to be acquainted with her."

        Zayn frowned and gazed coldly at Brien. "What purpose do you have for pointing that out?"

        Brien shivered before walking in and closing the door behind him, turning a blind eye to the way Zayn's jaw seemed to tick at the intrusion. "I assure ye milord, my words are free of ill intentions. I could see how much ye care about this maiden and 'tis probably her that has kept ye in this lost, wandering state." He paused and continued carefully. "She's the one ye've been meeting up with lately am I right, Milord? The one ye've been garbing in servant's clothing for."