~ DAVID ~
Clearly, she'd entered the passageways and seen Erik with Emory.
A torrent of conflicting emotions washed through me.
Regret that I had let myself be convinced it was too soon to tell her.
Violent grief that that was the last vision she had of me as her husband—sickness for the pain she must have gone through, seeing those moments.
But as a King…?
Rage. Pure, unfiltered rage.
She'd entered the passageways after specific instruction not to.
She'd betrayed me, lied to me, she deserved to be hurt.
Who could know if her pain was even real? Perhaps she'd had no feeling at all. Perhaps the whole thing had been an act.
My mind conjured images of her flushed and pretty and ecstatic in my arms. Of her joy at seeing me at the wedding, and her sheer relief and confidence after it.
She couldn't have faked all of it, surely?
