When morning dawned, Azael was still making himself scarce around the palace, but for more reasons than one this time. He had gone back to his own room seconds before Tissaia left Kaius's to avoid his presence being detected. If she'd been paying attention, she no doubt would've caught the lingering traces of his scent, but it seemed her worry was great enough to keep her from paying too much attention.

    Truthfully, he'd been more worried about Talarion picking up on it, but he'd heard the male leave just before sunrise, and there had been no unexpected intrusion into his own chambers, so he guessed himself in the clear. Azael was still keeping his distance from all three of them though. He'd been trailing them in equal turns all day, but they barely interacted with one another and certainly said nothing about what had occurred.

    His investigation had been cut short when he was finally tracked down by Gaelen and brought to his father's private council room. Azael hadn't bothered to curse his friend. As a Commander of the Cahirim, Gaelen had duties to uphold, and an order from the King had to be obeyed.

    Of course, that hadn't stopped him from shutting the door in Gaelen's face, preventing the male from accompanying him inside. This was between him and his father, no one else. Azael stood at the opposite end of the table, his arms folded together while he waited for his father to address him. King Mavron was leaning back in his chair, one elbow propped up on its arm so he could rest his face in his palm.

    "I heard what caused you to lash out," the King said at last. "So, she left the ball with the Phoenix, did she?" Azael remained silent while his father appraised him with a scrutinous gaze. "Servants reported she was in his chambers for several hours after the ball, as well as her brother."

    "Their friendship is well known," Azael replied. "It's not a crime for them to be seen together."

    "She was alone with him for an hour before her brother arrived." Azael swallowed, fighting down the sharp stabbing in his gut. "I don't know if anything happened, but the implications are there." King Mavron cocked his head. "It's not the first time I've heard her called a whore you know."

    Azael swallowed the warning snarl that threatened to break from his throat. "There is no proof."

    The King arched a brow. "So you do want to marry her, regardless of the rumors?"

    That caught him off guard. "I..."

    "Because the majority of my advisors suggest it's time to end this betrothal. It's been centuries and still, neither of you will agree to set a date. She is being portrayed as a high reaching whore and you as a fool."

    "We are neither of those things," Azael spat.

    "Then answer the question, Boy. Are you going to marry her?"

    "I...I can't."

    "Then we'll call it off and find someone else."

    Azael shook his head. "No, Father. The problem isn't her. I just can't marry her. I can't marry anyone."

    "Why?" The answer was there, on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't speak it. He never had. Not since the terrible warning had been delivered to him so many years ago. "Why?" The King demanded again.

    "I just can't. Not her, or any female."

    "You would prefer a male instead?"

    "No, that's not it at all."

    "Then what?" His father's voice was cold and unforgiving.

    Not a single part of Azael believed he was asking from a desire to help, or even to understand. No, if he revealed the truth, he already knew what his father would do. He would flaunt it to all of Asterria to prove that he wasn't the Cadhael's curse. He would clear his own name of all guilt. Claim that Orilight wouldn't shine for him because he had fathered such a son. A son destined to doom his own family. His kingdom.

    "Is this because of your mother?" King Mavron's voice cut through the layers of his thoughts. Azael slowly lifted his gaze to his father's. "What happened to her was not my fault. She made her own choices."

    At those cruel, unfeeling words, the last of his stone walls crumbled and Azael lunged forward, slamming a fist atop the table. "It was your fault! You failed her and left her with no other options! You knew she had always tried to love you, to love us, and you all but drove your own sword right through her heart."

    "Or maybe you did," the King snarled. "Do not blame me, Boy, when you let your mother witness you doing the exact same things I was. You were her life, and you let her watch you turn into another version of me. You failed her. She might have overcome what I did to her, but you were the one who broke her when she watched you steal your betrothed's heart, then crush it with your bare hand. She left because she couldn't stand either of us. Because she couldn't stand you, and she came back a corpse."

    No blow could have hit him harder than those words did. The same words he'd thought to himself over and over again, yet now, hearing them hurled from his father's mouth... The room slanted before his eyes, a leaden weight filling his limbs and dragging him down, down, down, into the blackest depths of his soul where dark things festered. Waiting to eat him alive and gorge themselves on his guilt.

    His heart pounded against his ribs, knocking his breath loose with every beat, and he couldn't gain it back no matter how he tried. He couldn't move, despite every inch of him longing to splinter the table beneath his palms. Fling it at the wall, maybe crush his father underneath it. Anything to silence the words that kept screaming in his ears, and Tissaia's above them all. "You make me wish I could hate you."

    Within himself, he was curled up and sobbing, but his body was deathly still, his face blank. The emotions trapped inside, unable to escape. His eyes stinging and dry. Words forming a solid lump in his throat. His father's mouth was moving again. The words were distant and slurred, as though his head were underwater. Maybe it was. Something was drowning him. Something was flooding his lungs and suffocating him.

    "Get out," his father was saying. The words were slow and wavering. "You're useless to me." He didn't know when his feet carried him out the door, or when he passed by Gaelen and the male called after him. Whatever he said was lost to the roaring waves in his head.

•༻☽☾༺•

    Tissaia leapt out of the way as Azael stumbled past her and continued down the hallway without even glancing back. It was like the male hadn't even seen her. She stared after him, her head cocked, until he disappeared around a corner. She straightened as Commander Gaelen sprinted to her side. "Where did he go?" The male asked.

    "Just ahead. What's wrong with him?"

    "I don't know. I heard him arguing with his father but I couldn't tell what was being said." The Commander made to set off again, but Tissaia held up a hand.

    "Wait. Let me," she suggested.

    "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

    "We both know I'm usually the quickest way to get his attention," Tissaia answered. "Just let me try at least. Whatever happened, I promise I won't make it worse."

    Gaelen pursed his lips but gave a curt nod and Tissaia swept down the hallway after Azael. There was no sign of the male when she rounded the corner, but the scent of teak wood and amber still hung thick in the air. She traced it through several winding corridors before it pooled in front of a drape-hidden alcove.

    Tissaia hesitated, then parted the drapes and poked her head in. Azael was partially hidden by a shadowed staircase, staring blankly at the wall before him. Tissaia cleared her throat as she joined him. "Go away," he muttered.

    "It wasn't very polite of you to outrun Gaelen. He is older than us, you know." Azael's head shifted towards her and she couldn't stop the jolt of worry she felt at the hollow weariness in his eyes. "He said you were arguing with your father."

    "I don't want to talk about it."

    "Then don't." She tucked her skirt beneath her legs and perched on the step below him. "I'm curious what happened at the ball last night. Talarion said you broke someone's jaw."

    Azael's face turned away. "Yeah."

    "Why?"

    "It doesn't matter. I think I only proved his point."

    Tissaia furrowed her brows. "Did he say something against you?"

    "In a manner of speaking."

    "You know, I've always despised how vague you can be."

    "I've always despised how persistent you can be," he retorted.

    "There was a time when you appreciated it. You said you needed it. Maybe you need it again." She left her true meaning unspoken, knowing he would hear it regardless.

    Tension coiled in Azael's shoulders and slowly, his head swiveled towards hers. "I don't need you any more than you need me," he said, the words little more than a rasping whisper.

    She flinched despite herself, and again when Azael's hand lashed out to grab her wrist. But his grip remained surprisingly gentle as he inspected the tender bruise on her forearm. He made a sound, a hitch in his breath, and let her hand fall. "I see that's still true."

    "What do you..." Tissaia broke off as his meaning sank in. "No, this isn't what you think. It's not from...I wasn't..."

    "You don't owe me any explanations," Azael interrupted, not looking at her again. "You can do what you want. I suspect we'll be free of each other soon enough."

    She laid her hand on his knee and he went rigid. "Azael, Darling, I wasn't...nothing happened. It wasn't him. Kaius, I mean. We didn't..."

    "Was him, wasn't him, I don't care. Leave me alone."

    She stared at him and removed her hand, dismay, then anger creeping across her features. "You don't believe me." She rose and shook her head, pinning a cold glare on him. "You make absolutely no sense, Azael Cadhael. You know that?"

    "It wouldn't be the first time you've called me mad."

    There wasn't a single note of care in his voice, or emotion either for that matter. He wasn't angry or upset. He just didn't care. She didn't know why, but for some reason, that stung worse than if he would've said he hated her. But him not caring at all... She swallowed the anger and hurt, raising her chin proudly.

    Fine. Whatever was going on with him, it wasn't her fault. She hadn't done anything, no matter what anyone else said, and if he didn't believe that, then it was on him. She had more important things to worry about. Kaius still had to tell her and Talarion was he'd dreamed of after all, and surely a vision from a goddess was more important than the dejected male before her.

    She strode down the steps without another word, but paused when Azael called after her, "Like you said, I wish you could hate me."

    She didn't answer him as she re-entered the corridor, but her mind was whispering the true end of that phrase. "I wish I could hate you, because loving you is worse."