It was impossible to look directly at her as I mumbled, “Imogen, do you love me?”
My heart pounded while I awaited her response. With every endless second that passed, I felt increasingly certain that I never should have attempted such a question. I understood the concept of love but had long doubted anyone’s ability to feel that way for me. All I dared hope to ask of Imogen was friendship, and now it seemed even that was failing.
After a long, horrible silence, she shook her head and whispered, “I don’t belong in your world, Jaron. You have the princess. Win her heart. Be hers.”
I searched Imogen’s face for any sign that she might be hiding her true emotions. After all, I had concealed the truth of my feelings behind the terrible things I’d said to her the night I sent her from the castle. A jumble of emotions collided within me, and I wondered if this was the way I had made Imogen feel that night, as though her entire world was splitting apart. She was masking her pain; I knew her well enough to see that. But for reasons I still couldn’t understand, I was the cause of it.
Yet in the end, the reasons didn’t matter. She was right. Whatever either of us felt, she could never belong to me. My future had but one path, and that was with the betrothed princess.
I nodded silently back at her, and with that, she stood and made herself busy in the room. “You should be ready to leave shortly. Harlowe’s having a bed made up for you in a wagon.”
As if I cared about that. “No more beds,” I grunted. “I’ll go in a carriage.”
“All right. If you’re up to it.”
She wouldn’t even face me now, which was awful. But I suspected it would be far worse to look in her eyes and see nothing but indifference in them.
I tried one last time, hoping to make her understand me. “Wherever our lives lead us, one thing is certain. You and I will always be connected. You might be able to deny that, but I can’t. Even I am not that good a liar.”
Imogen nodded, then turned to me only long enough to lower herself into a deep, respectful curtsy. “Please excuse me . . . Your Highness. We are not likely to ever see each other again. Be happy in your life.” And she left.
Mott and Roden drove the carriage back to Farthenwood. Harlowe rode beside me and Fink sat across from him. It still hurt to sit up but not too much. My leg was propped up on the seat across from me and padded with what I guessed was possibly every spare blanket in all of Libeth. An earthquake could shake Carthya to its core but even then, it’d barely jar my leg.
For the most part we traveled in silence. I liked that about Harlowe. He made no attempts at meaningless chatter or wit and was often content just to listen and watch the world around him. In contrast, Fink appeared to be fighting the urge to speak, just to release the energy trapped inside him. But someone must have threatened him, because whenever he looked at me and opened his mouth, he closed it again and returned to looking out the window.
It was dark when we arrived at Farthenwood. Fink had slept for most of the ride and remained asleep even after the carriage stopped. The royal carriage was already there.
Tobias came out to greet us almost immediately. He drew in a sharp breath when I emerged with a battle-bruised face and my leg in a splint, but he made a valiant attempt at a convincing smile. And he eyed Roden suspiciously, but I supposed Roden would have to deal with that for a while. Besides, Tobias would get over it once everything was explained to him.
“You’re going to be a teacher after all,” I said to Tobias as we passed by. “Your first student is asleep in the carriage. I wish you the best of luck.”
Tobias furrowed his brow and glanced doubtfully at the carriage.
“If that wasn’t enough trouble, I have another request,” I said. “I still need one more regent. Please accept, Tobias.”
His eyes widened. “Are you offering that to me? Really?”