It might be killing her to walk away, but she was one person. Danyl had a whole country ahead of him to look after. And he couldn’t do that with her beside him, a constant reminder of grief and loss. It would shape everything, and she’d be left trailing in his wake, never knowing if he was still with her because of his love, or because of his guilt. She knew, because that was how she felt. Grief was turning and changing their entire relationship, painting it in swathes of dark colours already.
‘Please, Danyl. You have to go. You have to let me go.’
CHAPTER NINE
December, present day
‘NO,’ HE SAID, the word pressed against her lips, the word he should have uttered years before.
He pulled back, looking down at Mason, her eyes shining with confusion as bright as any star in the Ter’harn night sky above them. And then, reading her thoughts, he watched her belief that he’d meant ‘no’ to the kiss enter her eyes and she turned away. She scanned the garden around them, as if looking for witnesses or escape, he wasn’t sure which.
‘We’re not doing this any more.’
‘No, of course not,’ she said, pulling out of his embrace, her fingers flying to her mouth as if to brush away, or seal in the kiss they’d shared, he couldn’t be sure. But one thing he did know was that she had completely misunderstood him.
He shook his head, as the sudden realisation and renewed determination had shocked him to the point of speechlessness. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and started leading her through the palace gardens.
‘Where are we going?’ she called to him, jogging to keep up with his determined strides.
‘Somewhere we can finally talk.’
* * *
Mason could still taste him on her tongue, feel him on her lips and skin, his firm hands moulding the length of her leg, the feel of him pressed against her core... Her body was wracked with tiny little tremors, but that was nothing compared to her heart.
Somewhere we can finally talk.
Danyl’s words repeated in her mind on a loop, and she started to pull back against the hold he had on her wrist, her body doing what her mouth couldn’t. She realised she was shaking her head.
‘Danyl, don’t. I can’t...’
‘You walked away from me once, Mason. I’m not letting it happen again. Not until we’ve dealt with the past. Haven’t you felt it?’ He stopped short, turned and she almost ran into his chest again. ‘Haven’t you felt it? That anchor pulling you back, making it almost impossible to move forward?’ He looked at her intently, as if trying to see if she felt what he did, and Mason was terrified of what he would see there in her eyes. Of course she had, she wanted to scream. How on earth were they supposed to move on? she wanted to know. Even after all these years. He gave a short, sharp nod, and resumed his march around the outside of the palace.
With his free hand he plucked his phone from his pocket and barked unintelligible orders into the mouthpiece. All the while Mason’s mind and chest were a swirl of fear and confusion, guilt and grief. Didn’t he realise that she’d walked away to protect him? That she’d done what she needed to that night so that he could have a life, a future that wasn’t lost in pain and grief?
And if there was a small voice reminding her gently that she’d also done it to protect herself, she refused to acknowledge it.
They arrived at a tarmacked circle, on which sat a small, sleek, black-as-night helicopter. A man in a jumpsuit moved from beside it, only the glowing high-vis stripes across the suit allowing Mason to pick him out in the dark.
He ran to Danyl, said a few words, cast one look at Mason, clearly too well trained to allow any signs of surprise, and left.
‘What’s going on? What are we...?’ Danyl had ignored her, and instead pulled her still by her wrist up to the open door to the helicopter.
‘Get in,’ he commanded.
‘Danyl!’
‘Get in,’ he repeated, his tone as dark as the night around him, and Mason knew that there’d be no arguing now.
There had been glimpses of this autocratic persona when she’d known him ten years ago, but it had always been softened by an almost amused, self-aware arrogance. The Danyl she’d seen presented in the papers, on the day she’d first met the Winners’ Circle, and at the race meets ever since...this Danyl...was a different beast altogether. Once again guilt rose, poked and prodded. You did this, her internal beating stick whispered to her. You did this to him.
He guided her to the handle at the roof of the helicopter and she pulled herself into the seat. She might have managed it with more dignity in a pair of jeans and flat boots, but heels and a crystal-lined dress made it slightly more difficult. She could feel Danyl restrain the urge to just push her into the seat from her backside.
He slammed the door behind her, walked around the front and got into the pilot’s seat.
‘You...you fly?’ she said, her voice expressing the disbelief she felt to her core.
‘Of course. I’m a prince.’ The sentence said so many times ten years before was now void of all that had made it a shared joke between them.