Page 78 of Duke of the Sun

“This isnot the same!” Michael’s hands shook as he held onto Rhys’s collar. The scars his father once gave him peered out from beneath his clothes, taunting him in a dreadfully poignant way. “Leaving was thebestthing I could do for her! Without me, she has a chance! She has arealchance!”

“For what?” Rhys snapped. “A sorrow as long as life itself?”

Michael was breathing heavily, the truth of his pain beginning to reveal itself. “Do you really believe I do not look in the mirror, and see that cursed man staring back at me?”

Rhys faltered slightly.

“My mother was trapped,” he whispered. “My mother was forced to endure a darkness she was incapable of surviving on her own. I am doing the honorable thing, the one option my father refused to do. The honorable thing.”

“What is honorable about this?”

Michael’s hold over Rhys’s collar loosened. “Everything, Rhys.”

“But -”

“I cannot divorce her,” he said. “The least I can do - theonlything - is to grant her freedom. The one thing I am capable of.”

Rhys’s lips tugged into a frown. “Michael -”

“I am through with this.”

Releasing his hold on his friend, Michael slipped out from beneath the ropes, and stumbled towards the chairs. Words he never wished to expel now hung in the air all around him. He wished to be free of the pain that haunted him, to feel something other than Cordelia’s phantom touch across his lips. He felt as though she was within him still, holding onto his very soul without any intention of ever letting go.

Michael reached his bag, already undoing the wraps around his hands and removing the gloves. There were aches all across his chest and sides, Rhys’s sharp punches sure to leave bruises along his skin.

“I believe you hold yourself in a regard much lower than what you deserve,” Rhys said from behind him.

Michael shook his head. “You said it yourself. I become more like my father with every passing day.”

“Continue on this path,” Rhys replied, “And there won’t be any chance of bringing you back. You understand that, don’t you?” He walked till he stood in front of Michael, his gaze hard and persistent. “The only one stopping you from becoming like the old Duke is yourself.”

Michael wished for it to be as easy as that. “I cannot return, Rhys. Cordelia deserves far more than a marriage like what my parents had.”

“Then don’t let it come to that!”

“Can’t you see?” Michael snapped desperately, stunted by the own weakness in his voice, something he hadn’t heard in quite a long time. “It is far too late to turn back! I have abandoned her already, I have already left her behind. In what life do you see her letting me back into her heart?”

Rhys reached and rested his hand over Michael’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “You will never know until you dare to try.”

Michael watched his friend’s face fill with a hope he could not match. Perhaps if he was stronger or more resilient, he could nod his head and make his way back to Solshire. He could try to imagine a future where he was a kind husband, a man who would one day raise a family and leave behind a legacy. But now, when he thought it over, Michael only saw the same despair that once plagued his mother. He saw a life ended at his hands. He saw Cordelia’s future ripped away from her. At least, in solitude, Cordelia could do as she pleased. She might build another orangery, if that was what she wished for.

He would see it through, no matter what.

Michael’s lips parted to speak, right when the door to their private room snapped open. Shrouded by the afternoon light, all Michael saw at first was a tall silhouette storming towards him. The closer the figure came, the more his vision sharpened, and he recognized the man as Duncan Celeston, Cordelia’s older brother.

Immediately, Michael was put on edge at the sight of him, questions blaring through the back of his mind. What could have brought the man to him in such a rush, with such a flurry of anger behind him?

“Michael Rayson,” Duncan exclaimed, his voice shrouded by a growl, his cheeks burning a brilliant red. “I call you to a duel of honor!”

Michael’s brow shot up in surprise. Rhys was moments away from stepping in front of him, but he shot his arm out, stopping him from doing so. “Duncan,” he said, walking towards him, “What is the meaning of this? In what vein have I insulted your honor to force you to make such a drastic measure?”

“Do not act as if you are unaware of the things you have done!” Duncan stormed closer, thrusting his hand forward accusingly. “Your selfish actions for solitude have left my dear sister to the wolves, an innocent girl who has donenothingmore than follow the things our father demanded her to do!”

Michael shook his head, the words swimming around his head. “To the wolves?” he repeated. “What do you speak of? Is Cordelia -”

“You have no right to even speak her name!” Duncan surged forward, violence obvious in his eyes. It was not until Rhys slipped around, stopping him from doing something he might’ve regretted later. Rhys held him by the shoulders, planting his feet on the ground to fight against Duncan’s obvious strength.

Michael almost had a mind to tell Rhys to let him go, to take every hit Duncan was willing to give. But before he could even think to do such a thing, the Celeston sibling continued shouting, his voice bouncing off the walls and hitting Michael like a punch to each cheek.

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