M E R E D I T H is a princess without a country. Her family, formerly the royal family of Borgavia, has been exiled from their home, forced to live under the rule of the Empire of Astoria.
A N T O N Y is a prince who doesn't want a crown. Soon to be...
Meredith knew that she was prone, on occasion, to impulsive actions that usually ended up getting her in trouble. She knew, as soon as she grabbed the king's arm, stopping him from leaving, that now might be one of those times.
He looked somewhat angry, but underneath that emotion, she could see hurt and sadness that had not been there in such great quantity on any of the other occasions she had chanced to meet with him.
She immediately let go of his arm and backed up a few steps.
"I'm sorry," she said. He didn't say anything; he simply looked at her as though shocked that she would stop him.
She took a deep breath. "Fire me if you're going to fire me, but, Sire, I think that something has upset you. Something's bothering you, and you need to talk to someone about it. I don't mean to suggest myself, because I feel that...that's not my place. But at least talk to Isabella, or someone else you trust. Perhaps your grandmother. Talk about it so you can...move on. It doesn't help, to keep it all to yourself such as you are."
He stared at her for a few more seconds before his mouth set in a frown and his eyes narrowed. "Let me ask you something, Meredith," he said, his voice cold. "If a man gave his very life for you, would you just move on?"
She felt her face grow warm in the wake of how clearly upset he was.
This time, as he turned and strode from the room, she did nothing to stop him.
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Antony kept his head down and did not look back as he hurried from the portrait hall. He felt a brief pang of regret that he had been so harsh with Isabella's companion. She had merely been trying to help.
He clenched his fists at his sides.
That was his problem. He pushed people away, grew angry with himself for being weak enough for them to notice, and ran in the opposite direction when anyone did notice.
He strode through the front door, ignoring Fulton's inquiries and making his way across the palace lawns to the stables, where he waited impatiently for a stable boy to saddle one of his horses. The stable boy soon rushed over, holding the reigns to a dark brown horse, another that Antony was fond of, a mare named Sue.
He mounted his horse and, after exiting the stables, took off at a full gallop into the hills behind the palace.
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