Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(41)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“She may have shared her mysteries with you, but they are her mysteries to share. They are also now mine to discover.”

They locked eyes and neither man spoke for some time.

Apollo grew impatient with it and he was about to break it before Derrik did.

And he did it to announce, “I’ll be leaving Karsvall and returning to the Lazarus seat.”

Apollo’s gut got tight at this loss, but he nodded and requested, “I understand your need to do that but I’ll ask that you continue to see to the safety of my children at Karsvall until Madeleine and my return.”

Derrik flipped out a hand even as he didn’t quite successfully stifle this flinch at the words “Madeleine and my” and he muttered, “Of course.”

Again, the men locked eyes. But needing to face whatever Maddie cared to make him endure, Apollo broke it and moved to the door.

He opened it, stood in it and looked back to his friend.

“I understand your need to break from Ulfr, Derrik, but when that happens, know you will be missed and welcomed back should that desire return to your heart.”

Derrik made no move or noise. He just held Apollo’s eyes.

So be it.

Apollo moved to leave him but Derrik finally spoke.

“Take care of her.”

Again, he looked directly into Derrik’s eyes and when he said the words, Derrik knew him well enough to know what they were.

And what they were was a vow.

“I will.”

He left it at that and moved out of the door, closing it behind him.

In the step it took him to reach his own, he pulled in a deep breath and braced.

Then he opened the door and entered the room, eyes glued to Madeleine sitting at the table, a bowl of untouched porridge in front of her.

She was wearing a very becoming dress the color of the inside of a blood orange. He had her side but he could still see the deep cowl that dropped down her chest, likely exposing skin behind it. The sleeves were knitted to fit tight at her arms and her long skirt was belled out on the floor around her chair. Her hair, as it had been yesterday, was pulled back at her nape in a satin ribbon the color of a mushroom.

Normally, she would have been a vision.

But she had one hand wrapped around a forgotten cup of coffee and her other elbow was on the table. Her head was turned to the window but her back was bowed so she could hold it in her hand.

He felt his throat begin to close at witnessing her pose of defeat.

He closed the door and when she heard it, she jumped. As he took two paces in the room, slowly, she lifted from the table and turned her gaze to him.

He halted when he saw her beautiful eyes swimming with tears.

Gods, gods, he’d damaged her worse than he thought.

“Madel—” he started.

But she spoke over him.

Her voice trembling, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

That was not what he expected to hear.

“Pardon?”

“So, so sorry.” She kept whispering.

“Madeleine.”

She shook her head. “So, so, so, so, so sorry, Apollo.”

She was sorry?

“My dove—”

“I’m selfish,” she stated and he stared. “It’s a weakness. Selfish and self-indulgent and thoughtless and stupid.”

Not liking her words, he took a step toward her but she sat back in her chair and lifted her hand his way.

“That tea was…” she started when he stopped moving. “I don’t know what it was. But you were trying to be nice. Trying to take care of me. Trying to be gentle. And I pushed it because I wanted something and…”

Suddenly, she looked away, her neck twisting so deep, he only had the back of her ear and head before she twisted back and he saw the tears chasing down her cheeks.

“As usual, I got what I wanted, damn the consequences,” she whispered brokenly and continued in her tortured voice. “Hurting you in the process.”

He remained where he was, distant, as caution dictated he do in her state, and asked, “Poppy, how on earth did you hurt me?”

“I look like her.” She informed him, her voice now agonized and he finally understood. “I look like her and you miss her. I threw myself at you, and first, you’re a guy. What are you going to do? Turn down a sure thing?” She shook her head. “No. No way. But one who looks exactly like your—”

At that, he was done.

He moved to her, pulled her from her chair and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her to his body. He glided a hand up her neck, her hair sliding over and he twisted his fist in it, pulling back gently even as he slid his cheek along hers so he had his lips at her ear.

“I did not make love to my wife last night, Madeleine. I made love to you,” he said there.

“Well, yes…I know. I was there, but—”

His hand tightened in her hair slightly and he lifted his head to capture her eyes.

“No buts.”

She looked deep in his eyes, hers still wet, and came to a conclusion.

The wrong one.

“You’re just being nice.”

“Mad—”

“Like you’ve been nice all along.”

“Maddie—”

“Since the beginning. Except that one time when you weren’t nice but that was understandable.”

“My dove, will you cease speaking so I can—”

“And I’ve been a bitch.”

Apollo shut his mouth.

She had to let it out?

He’d allow that.

And he knew she had to let it out because she didn’t stop.

“A silly, childish, selfish, thoughtless bitch.”

Apollo said nothing.

“And that’s not nice but last night was way not nice. It was cruel. I’m cruel!”

Her voice was rising but Apollo held his silence.

“I’m a silly, childish, selfish, thoughtless, cruel…bitch!”

Apollo remained silent and Madeleine fell into the same.

After some time, her eyeballs rolled this way and that. Finally, they stuck on him.

“Um…why are you holding me in your arms?” she asked hesitantly.

“Because you were weeping and saying foolish things and I wished to comfort you and assure you that you were being foolish. However, you wouldn’t be quiet and allow me to speak so I couldn’t assure you that you were being foolish so that left just my holding you in an effort to comfort you.”

She stared at him a moment before she queried, “You want to comfort me?”

He gave her a squeeze and answered, “Yes.”