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“Don’t go—Emelia, please, just listen to me—”
She whirled around and smacked away Lathael’s outstretched hand. “No. This is it. We both know that this is hopeless. Even if you become King, I’ll be nothing!” She scowled at him and swallowed down the block in her throat. This felt too familiar.
“For the sake of the next girl you pull to your bed,” she spat, “do better. Maybe you’ll pick an elf next time.” Emelia turned away and stalked towards the door.
She paused, hand on the doorway. “And maybe—” she cut off abruptly. Her voice was trembling. “And maybe when you tell her you’ll marry her…you won’t be lying.”
She left. Emelia did not look back. Maybe if she had, she’d have seen the tears in Lathel’s eyes.