Willow stood frozen in the alcove long after Dorian's footsteps had faded into silence. The tears that had started falling during their conversation now came in earnest, streaming down her face in rivers of hurt and humiliation.
She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to muffle the sobs that threatened to escape, but her body shook with the effort of containing them.
He grew up. He became king, and kings don't have the luxury of kindness.
The words echoed in her mind, each repetition driving the knife deeper into her already shattered heart.
She had thought she had experienced the depths of his cruelty before. The public humiliation, the kiss with Carina, the constant reminders of her lowly status, but this was something else entirely.
He wanted to use her. Like a broodmare, just as she had said. The mate bond that she had treasured even in its impossibility, the connection that had given her hope during her darkest moments, had been reduced to a practical consideration.
