Page 57 of Sweetling
By the third day, Allarion fled the house, unable to stand having four walls surrounding him. The house had grown somber, moaning and creaking as it felt the upset of its inhabitants. The whole estate grew quiet and dour, sensing that they all stood on the edge of a precipice.
Hemmed in by the waiting, her decision, his decisions…outside was the only place capable of containing his frustration.
Splitting wood was an excellent task for taking out aggression, and Allarion wielded the axe mercilessly. His newest order of timber and other supplies had been left at the border of the estate nearest Mullon, and the forest had helpfully carted it along on a bed of moss. Organizing the supplies should have been a menial task that took him a day, but instead, he still hadn’t completed it.
The best he could do was split some of the timbers he knew to be too long. And, if he was honest with himself, the swing of the axe and the way it split the wood apart felt good.
It made the waiting bearable, if not better.
If Molly had any sympathy for his agony, he didn’t see her enough to mark it. He had none for himself, as their revelations had revealed the true depth of his miscalculations.
His disgust over what she had thought of him, of what she likelystillthought, was hard to shake. What stuck in his craw most, though, was knowing that he’d have done nothing differently. He still would’ve paid any price for her. Oh, to be sure, he wished dearly that he’d spoken to her rather than her uncle, but if she’d refused him or hesitated, Allarion knew he’d have resorted to similar tactics as he did.
As the son of a old noble house, he prided himself on being an honorable warrior and a good man. Deep down, though, when it came to Molly, he was neither.
So, he had no sympathy for himself, for it was his own mess he’d created, and given another chance, he’d have created a similar one. If she chose to return to Dundúran, he would take her—whether he would leave her there was another question entirely.
But perhaps the one with the least sympathy was Bellarand.
The unicorn trotted out of the forest to inspect the new supplies, feigning interest when really, Allarion knew the beast wanted to gloat.
Still you chase her tail?
Don’t be crass.
Then you shouldn’t be stupid. Her silence is answer enough.
It was a truth he’d no interest in hearing. Throwing Bellarand a glare, he resumed his chopping.
A hot huff of breath washed over him, and Bellarand nudged his shoulder with his muzzle.Much as it amuses me, I don’t actually enjoy seeing you like this. Why do you not give this one up? There are other females.
Not for me.
Another huff, this time ruffling his hair.The forest is vast. To say it is not is folly.
She is myazai. My fated one. A gift given by the goddesses.
Bellarand snorted.Some gift.
That earned him another glare.
It is a dread-mount’s duty to point out when the rider chooses a perilous path, is it not?
Allarion sunk the axe into the tree trunk he used as an anchor.It is. But this path is not perilous, merely rocky.
You behave sillier than a foal over her—and for what? She has shown no interest, nor made you any promises. It is time to cut our losses.
Shaking his head, Allarion turned to walk away, needing to leave the conversation. He didn’t enjoy how much like truth it seemed.
But Bellarand wasn’t done with him. Easily keeping stride, the unicorn bobbed his head, pointing his horn at the manor.
This is supposed to be about Ravenna. Everything we’ve done, it’s been for her. This human delays you. Do your promises not matter anymore?
“Of course they do!” Allarion shouted. “But anazaichanges everything. I would not ask you to leave a mate—do not ask me to give mine up.”
A deeply sardonic nicker vibrated in Bellarand’s long throat. Pawing the earth, his voice came deadly quiet in Allarion’s mind.Haven’t I, though? Have I not left all my kind behind, to aid you in your promise?
Allarion bared his teeth. “You promised Maxim as much as I.”
