Chapter Text
He stood in front of her, eyes clear for the first time in weeks. The look on his face was enough to break her.
The unbreakable woman was broken by a single gaze. Her parents would be so proud.
"How could you do this?" The Crown Prince's voice was strained, his expression tight and a glimpse of silver in his eyes. "I trusted you, Arya. You betrayed me. You betrayed all of us."
"Dorian, please," her tone was soothing as though he were no more than a petulant child. "You know that isn't true. I love you, darling."
Even as she stared at him, even as his expression began to break her she knew that this was not true. She had never loved Dorian Havilliard. He had been nothing more than her mission. One that she had so clearly failed.
He would never again trust her.
She would never be allowed into his heart.
She had failed and she could only begin to imagine the torture that her parents would put her through. Kalthanenians did not fail.
"Leave Adarlan. You're never to set foot in my kingdom again." His knuckles turned white as he made fists. She wasn't sure if it was to control himself to keep from hurting her or from showing how much she had hurt him. "If I ever see you again, I will have you killed. Leave on the first ship. I don't care what you do then."
"Dorian, you can't be serious. This is all a misunderstanding," she didn't move to step close to him. Didn't even try to show him that he was truly wrong. She knew that she had failed. She knew that he had seen through her clever disguise.
Dorian swallowed as he looked at her, blinking back his tears of frustration. "You should leave before I change my mind."
"They'll kill me if I go back." Her left hand began to tap a gentle beat on her thigh. Her eyes going from his sapphire eyes to the piles of books beside his bed. He was always reading. It had been hard enough to pry his attention away from those damned books. He didn't read anything interesting either. Nothing about poisons or politics. Just stuffy old history and romance.
"I don't care." He said as he stared at the door behind you. "Get out."
She knew she would never be able to convince him to allow her to stay. She knew she would never have a chance to make him see things her way.
She did not bother to bow as she strode from the room and down the tower steps.
The last image that Dorian Havilliard had of her was the long scar on her back and the red silk of her dress clinging to her creamy thighs.