Shadows of Demise (The Warrior Angels Trilogy - Book 3)

Chapter Twelve

Beatrice held her diary against her chest and took a deep breath. She hadn't written in it in so long, but she had so many thoughts today. Someone knocked on her door. She asked who it was and heard her father's voice.

"Oh." Beatrice set aside her diary and rose to answer. Her father stood on the other side with his head slightly bowed. He looked smaller and smaller to her each time she spoke with him—which seemed to be rare now.

She frowned as she gestured to him. "What do you need?"

"Your mother has informed me about Ashton Ward," he said, his voice low and exhausted. She wanted to reach out to him and ask him how he felt. Unfortunately, she knew she would only receive silence and a turn away—as it'd occurred every other time that she'd attempted to check on him.

"I am not asking him to leave," Beatrice responded, folding her arms across her chest. "He deserves to be here and to assist if he desires. Mother cares far too much about Franco's fragile heart."

Her father raised his eyebrows. "Great Holy Deity, Beatrice. I've not heard you speak with such cruel words in years."

Beatrice blinked. Then she widened her eyes. "I... merely find it unfair for Ashton. That is all."

"I understand. I've always believed him to be one of the good ones. Has he at least explained why he left?"

"He... he fell in love."

Her father's expression softened. "He did?"

"Yes. Ashton is... he is married, and he has children. They live in the south." Beatrice swallowed hard and looked away. "He returned because Richard asked for his assistance. They have always been close. But Ashton wants Aristol to be safe. He wants this war to end, so he is determined to stay until the end." When she faced her father again, she couldn't decipher his thoughts. She never could anymore.

"Very well," he then said. "I shall be in the dining hall. Will you be joining us?"

Beatrice shook her head no. He merely sighed and walked away. She closed the door and lowered her shoulders as she failed not to dwell on the situation. There'd been a time when her father happily indulged in conversations with her—when he defended her at every turn and loved her dearly. Now he couldn't stand being near her for too long. Beatrice knew he forced himself to speak to her so she wouldn't think he despised her.

Except she did think that. No, actually, she believed it.

Beatrice returned to her desk and plopped into her chair. She grabbed the gold vase filled with dead sunflowers and yanked them out. Then she flipped the vase over, allowing the hidden ring to fall out and clatter across the wooden surface. She set the flowers and vase aside and snatched the ring.

"I do wonder if you'd want this back, Ash," she said as she turned over the knight ring. She examined all the little details as if this was her first time seeing it. The engraved 'A. Ward' had always haunted her. Now she felt conflicted.

Ashton Ward was a married man. Not only married, but a married man with children. She couldn't allow herself to have any foolish ideas.

Yet how could she stop herself when merely looking at him made her heart quiver? Being near him awoken feelings within her she hadn't felt in years. It was riveting; like the way her cold and numb skin felt against a warm fire after being outside in the snow.

Beatrice brought the ring to her lips and closed her eyes. Then someone banged their fists against her door. She flinched and glanced over. That certainly couldn't be her father returning to plead with her to join him in the great hall.