Chapter 48

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Ptolemus Pov

It's been a whole other week since I've seen Isabelle, a whole week of pure torture, plain agony. Most of the time it doesn't seem real, it doesn't seem possible, that I could have done what I did. I could have sworn up and down it was Isabelle I laid with that night. It was her I made smile, her I was totally vulnerable with that night. Which shows how much my word is worth to anything or anyone.

I can still hardly remember that night. It's all in a haze, flicking in and out. I can't recall ever being so drunk. I don't remember Wren or any of the actions we did. All I remember is Isabelle. My Isabelle.

The days blur together now, and I stick to a strict rountine. It works to keep any questions away, to keep Eve from throwing me curious glances and my parents from taking away the brown liquid refuge I have tucked into my chambers.

But most of all, it's best to avoid seeing Isabelle. The one person I would kill to see now, that I find myself standing, whimpering at her door like a wet dog. All the while being too big of a coward too afraid to knock.

Luckily, my parents were too focused on wrangling with the other houses to care about my sudden situation, and I let himself feel a sliver of relief about it too. The very last thing I want is for someone to tell me of the severity of my mistake and scold me for it, more than I was already doing to myself every waking moment.

Eve tried to talk to me, knocking on my door sometime in the late afternoon. Concern laced in her voice. But all I felt was a harsh fatigue and hadn't bothered to answer to my sister. I really wanted to be alone.

Despite how much I slept, I still felt the lingering sensation of exhaustion. I know that I don't sleep well, I've gotten so used to the knowledge and security of Isabelle's love and now that it's gone, it weighs on me even in my sleep.

But my dreams are not empty. No, in fact they are filled with false promises and fantasies. Memories that felt so real, I could almost fool myself into believing they occured when I wake.

Isabelle's soft skin pressing against mine. Her warm embrace and feather light kisses. The scent of her skin and taste of her lips. My hands on her. Her nimble fingers, running across my back.

I swallow roughly and forced myself to turn back to the meeting occurring at the moment.

Jerald speaks to my father but his words float past me. I don't register any of it, not really. I try. I do. But as always, Isabelle invades my mind. The last time she looked in my eyes.

I inwardly flinch. Whatever hell she is sure to dish out when we come face to face, whatever verdict she lays before me, I know I deserve.

Terror creeps up, threatening to strangle me. To swallow me whole, and my fingers in return grip the armrests of my throne. Father glances at me from the corner of his eye, but I can't being myself to care. Not right now.

And if she asks you away. A voice sneers in my head. If she screams and tells you to leave. To never touch her again. That her love is gone. That she no longer belongs to you. What then?

What then?

Isabelle POV

Every cell in my body screams at me. Every vain, lit with fire. I want to scream, to pull my hair out. I feel as if I need to pull myself out of my own skin. To disappear.

I don't belong here. This never should have happened. Is it me? Is this my fault?

Suddenly loving him from afar seems perfect. He could have done what he's done, and I would never know. I would be ignorant, oblivious, and happy.

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