Chapter 47

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Belle Pov

I scratched at my nail beds if only to keep from biting them. A habit I forturantly had never picked up as a girl but resisted now. A wave of dizziness overcame me as I rose from my bed, my stomach rolling.

I had spent another night in tears, triggered by Ptolemus' sudden and slightly drunken intrusion into my chambers. Immediately I called for some tea and a hot breakfast I had forced myself to complete.

Sucking in a deep breath of cool air I went over what I was going to say. I needed to talk to him, I needed to see him. I saw how my rejection was affecting him. How if was affecting me. I could come to forgive. I know it.

Planting a smile on my face, I tied the end of my simple braid laid over my shoulder. I stare at myself in the mirror, noticing how my eyes were still a little swollen.

Ptolemus' smiling face appears in my mind. I long ago memory, of us together lazing together one white winter afternoon, on a plump couch, trading kisses and teasing with fleeting touches. I had never known such happiness then.

The memory stirs my into action. Brushing off my pants I stand up
I rush to the door in my antechamber before I could change my mind.

I nearly skip down the hallway suddenly excited. I would tell him that I understood, I would tell him my love has not faltered. That I missed him, and was ready to forgive.

I paused at his doorway, biting my lip and pushing open the door. It was still a little early, as I saw through the open window the sun just beginning to peak over the horizon. The room was still and quiet, but smelled faintly of liquor.

I turn to the doorway to his bedroom, twisting my pants between my fingers.

I walk over. "Ptolemus," I call knowing he would still he in bed. Lucky for me, I guess. A giggle arose in my throat, "Samos it's me. Isabelle. Can...can I come in?" I knocked on his door, ever so polite. "Samos?"

I hear him cough and I smile and turn the knob. As the door creaked open, I heard the stiff shuffling of sheets. "Samos?"

The words froze in my throat and time stopped. For one or several moments I stared at him. He stared back, dark eyes filled with panic. The breath left me. I was the biggest most naive fool. Stupid, stupid little girl. A voice sneered mockingly at me.

His tangled hair, flushed face and messy sheets spoke for themselves. A strangled gasp left me. I watch as Wren, a quiet thing, the healer Evangeline had brought along, the one who oversaw the regrowth of Ptolemus' hand sat up. She clutched the sheets to her chest, dazzy eyed.

"What is she doing here?" She asked. Ptolemus didn't answer.

Me? I wanted to scream. You! What are you doing here! Instead I felt my face crumble although rage and hate seared through my veins. You stupid little girl.

Tears blurred my vision and I felt a them warm and heavy fall over my cheeks. I imagined a thousand deaths, a million tortures. But my heart was broken, my hope shattered.

"Isabelle," Ptolemus croaked as he moved to get out of bed.

I turned around, not able to see anymore.

"Isabelle wait!" I heard him yell but my feel carried me faster then I ever had. I am a swift. I would not be caught if I did not want to. Out the door, the carpet blurred, walls and glass.

I hated them all. I hated this place. Each greedy crown and planned strategy. I hated them all. Faces flashed before her eyes. Ptolemus, Evangeline, Wren, Elane, my own brother. I wanted to disappear. Hide away, hide from my shame and embarrassment.

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