Theodora
father and running away from him was the most frightened I’ve ever been—but seeing Zachary Blackwood fall to his knees with tears streaming down his face is the saddest I’ve ever felt.
I’ve had plenty of time, the past weeks, to comb through my feelings for him.
Desire, affection, admiration, love, resentment, betrayal, hatred. The full spectrum of love and hate and all the emotions in between. It was my hatred that allowed me to stay away from him, to refrain from running to him for help and comfort when it was all I wanted to do.
And yet, now, watching the pain etched into his beautiful face, made more beautiful still by the wretched despair twisting it, my hatred drains from me like a poison being sucked out of my bloodstream.
Taking his chin in my hand, I raise his face to me. He looks up, a silent plea in his eyes. Tears stream down the smooth brown plains of his gorgeously chiselled cheeks. I wipe them away with my fingers.
“Why are you crying?” I ask him.
“Because.” His voice is thick and raw. “Because I was so—so fucking scared. And because I missed you, and because I thought you were gone, and because—because I’m so angry at you.”
“Angry? At me? You?”
“Me—yes, me. Angry at you, yes. You, Theodora Dorokhova, cruel goddess that you are. Do you know the fucking pain you’ve put me through?”
I grab his jaw in my hand. “And what about the pain you put me through?”
“I’d cut my own hand off before I ever used it to hurt you.”
“And what about your tongue?”
I glare down at him. Tears still shimmer in his eyes as he frowns up at me. Then, the searching look in his eyes is replaced with sudden realisation.
“You think it was my fault. You think I told your father about us.”
“No, I don’t.” My fingers tighten around his jaw. He’s so beautiful, and I adore him so much, but part of me wants to hurt him. “I think you told someone who took that information back to my father, whether directly or indirectly. I don’t think so—I know so.”
He gazes up at me, and I feel the shudder of his throat as he swallows hard and the tensing muscles of his jaw as he clenches his teeth.
“Who do you think I told?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I sneer. “There was only one of your friends who stayed at your house at the same time I did, and it’s not a coincidence he lives in the same country as my father.”
“You think Iakov betrayed you?”
“No. I never put my trust in Iakov. I put my trust in you.”
“And you really think I would ever betray your trust? What reason could I possibly have for doing that?”
A memory flashes through my mind: opening my phone to frantically search for that accursed list the Young Kings keep of their conquests. Scrolling through the names hoping with every fibre of my being not to find what I was looking for, and then the sharp fangs of despair biting down on my heart when I reached the end of the list.
My name never looked so much like a stranger’s name as it did then.
I finally let go of Zachary’s jaw. “I suppose I can’t blame you. You had to wait a long time to get rid of that nickname of yours, and your contribution to that stupid bet must have been a great one indeed: you’re the man who conquered the virgin of Spearcrest, after all.”
He climbs to his feet and gathers himself to his full height. I realise at that moment how much he’s changed since the last time I saw him, even though it was only a few weeks ago. He’s taller, for one, and there’s a hardness in him that wasn’t there before—a palpable inner strength that makes me take a step back.
“You’re an intelligent woman, Theodora.” The wet track of his tears still gleams on his cheeks, but his voice is hard and cool as marble. “Far too intelligent to believe what you’re saying.”
“My father didn’t guess what happened. He knew. How could he have known?”
“If someone found out about what happened from me, they could only have guessed, or I might have let it slip by accident without realising. I can swear to you that I never purposely told anyone.”
The conviction in his tone, burning with that same intensity he was always full of when he was younger, makes me almost waver.
“Swear it on what?” I ask, shaking my head. “You don’t believe in anything.”
“You’re wrong. I believe in you—I swear it on you, Theodora. On you and your soul, which I love more than my own. If I ever let slip our secret, it was by accident.”
“And the bet?” I ask, my voice cracking even though I’ve been so strong so far. “Why was my name on that disgusting list?”
“Your name was on the list?” His eyes widen, and then his fists clench at his sides. “Luca,” he bites out. “That fucking sociopath.” He shakes his head at me. “He joked about putting your name on there—but he jokes about it all the time. It’s his way of reminding me I can never have you. He just likes getting under people’s skin.”
He looks at me, and his gaze softens. He reaches for me, but I step out of his reach.
“You can be angry at me if you wish.” His voice is full of a gentle fervour. “You can hate me for as long as you like. I’ll wait for your forgiveness as long as you need me to, and if you never forgive me, I’ll live a servant to your hatred. You can punish me every day of my life, Theodora, if you wish to. But you don’t get to hate me from afar. You don’t get to”—he gestures at the room, the cottage—“hide from me. You don’t believe me, and you’re hurt—and you’re allowed to feel those things. But you don’t get to push me away because I know I’ve done nothing wrong. My love is as valid as your hatred. You get to land a thousand blows on me, and I get to return each blow with a caress. So don’t hate me from afar, Theo. Hate me from up close.”
I let out an incredulous laugh. “You and your arrogance. You’re not the centre of the world, Zachary. I’m not here because I’m hiding from you—I’m here because I’m hiding from my father.”
“Your father won’t be coming back to this country. I can guarantee it. So you don’t need to hide from him.”
My breath catches. When I finally got hold of Zahara, she told me what happened at her house. Hearing it from Zach’s mouth makes it more real, but the fear inside me won’t let me fully believe that my father is really gone.
I suspect the fear won’t ever fully go away.
Zach steps closer to me. His presence, full of authority and that intense strength of his, seems to fill the small space of the bedroom.
“If you were hiding from your father, why did you tell Zaro not to tell me you were here?”
I lick my lips and pull on the sleeves of my cardigan. “I didn’t ask her to keep it a secret from you.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying. She asked me if she should tell anyone. I told her I needed more time. That’s all.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Do you really think she would have let you follow her here if she was trying to keep me a secret? She practically led you here.”
He frowns at me. “She didn’t lead me here. It was Iakov who realised she was sneaking off campus.”
“And Zahara definitely doesn’t know that Iakov keeps an eye on her—at your behest?”
“She asked me to tell him to stop, and I did.” Zachary crosses his arms. “Even I didn’t know Iakov was still keeping an eye on her.”
“And you really think Zahara didn’t know?”
“If she wanted to lead me here,” Zachary demands, “why would she not just tell me you were here straight away?”
“Because she’s only known for a few days. I’m guessing she expected to be caught earlier.” I smirk. “Iakov must be slacking in his duties.”
We stare at each other across the room. Zachary steps forward again, but this time, the backs of my legs hit the edge of the window seat. There’s nowhere left for me to retreat.
A grim determination settles in the rich brown depths of Zachary’s eyes. He begins his cross-examination.
“When did you get here?”
“A few days ago.”
“Where have you been?”
“Travelling from Surrey.”
“On foot?”
“And trains and buses.”
“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”
“My father took it away when he brought me home.”
Zachary swallows visibly. Now that there is barely any space between us, caught in the heat haze of his complete attention and focus, my skin begins to tingle all over.
“What happened between you and your father?”
“I finally spoke to him.” I give Zachary a small smile. “I remembered what you said about the prisoner and his cell. I suppose I realised I didn’t have to be a prisoner after all. And I remembered the way you spoke to your father—something I never thought I could do. Well, I did.”
There’s a softness in his gaze—the glowering softness of molten lava. “Were you afraid?” His voice comes out hoarse and rough as if he’s unwell.
“Yes. More afraid than I’ve ever been.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“Only a little.”
His fists clench at his sides, and he takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling brusquely. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t have my phone.”
“Would you have called me if you did?”
My breath leaves my lungs, and my eyes sting. The truth drops from my mouth like the roses and diamonds dropping from the girl’s mouth in that French fairy tale.
“I might have, even if I hated you then. I might have because there’s a part of me that’s always wanted you to save me.”
My voice trembles—I remember how afraid I used to be of crying, my father’s wrath at the sound of my sobs, and the way Zachary dropped to his knees to weep, unashamed, at my feet.
“I wanted you to save me for so long, Zachary Blackwood. Sometimes, my heart cried so loudly for you to save me, I couldn’t understand how you couldn’t hear it. I know princes and knights aren’t real and that damsels ought to save themselves. But I thought you were something else, a saint, or an angel, to keep me safe when I couldn’t do so myself.”
A tear blossoms in Zachary’s eyes and falls in a straight line down his cheek.
“I would have,” he rasps in a broken voice. “I would have if only you’d let me. I would have saved you and protected you and never let any harm come to you. If only you hadn’t always insisted on keeping me at arm’s length.”
“One step removed from a stranger,” I say. “I know. I was scared. I’ve been scared for a very long time.”
“And now?”
“Now? I don’t know. I’m not so scared anymore, though I suspect there’ll always be a little tumour of fear living in my heart. Now, mostly, I feel lost.”
“You’re not lost.” He steps forward one more time, almost closing the space between us, and takes my hands in his. For the first time, it’s his fingers which are cold and mine warm. “You’re not lost, Theodora. I’ve found you. I’ve finally found you. And I’ll never lose you again.”
