The room fell into an almost palpable silence after Claire’s confession, each word hanging in the air as if suspended in time. The atmosphere was thick with shock, the weight of her revelation pressing down on everyone present. It was as if the very walls of the sitting room absorbed the enormity of her words, amplifying the tension that gripped the space.
Claire stood in the center of the room, her posture defiant yet vulnerable. Her eyes met Curtis briefly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face before she steeled herself once more. She had laid her heart bare, and now she awaited the reactions of the people with bated breath.
The silence was abruptly shattered when Curtis stepped forward, his expression hardening into one of cold denial. “Claire,” He began, his voice firm, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We aren’t mated.”
Claire’s face fell, the hurt and confusion stark in her eyes. “Curtis, please,” she pleaded, her voice trembling with emotion. “I know this is my fault and I regret rejecting you. I was scared and confused. But I can’t deny the bond any longer.”
Curtis shook his head, his jaw set in a stubborn line. “You had your chance, Claire. When you turned your back on me, you made your choice.”
Tears welled up in Claire’s eyes, but she refused to back down. “I know I hurt you, Curtis, and I’m sorry. I was wrong. I should never have pushed you away.” Her voice cracked with the weight of her apology. “But we can still make this work. We will be stronger together. You know that.”
Curtis’s eyes flickered with an emotion that was hard to read, but his stance remained rigid. “It’s too late, Claire,” he said quietly. “I can’t trust you anymore.”
The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. Claire’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her as Curtis’s words cut deep. “I’m sorry,” She whispered, more to herself than anyone else. “I thought… I thought we could fix this.”
Curtis’s expression softened for a brief moment, but he quickly regained his stoic demeanor. “Sometimes, things can’t be fixed,” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes, it’s better to let go.”
Claire nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek. The silence that followed was filled with the unspoken pain of lost opportunities and broken bonds.
The room fell into another heavy silence following Curtis’s refusal to forgive Claire. The weight of his words lingered in the air, wrapping around everyone like an oppressive fog. Claire stood motionless, her eyes downcast, the finality of Curtis’s rejection sinking in.
No one seemed to know what to say. Jan’s hand fluttered to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock that her son had been rejected and sympathy for Claire.
Claire finally broke the silence with a ragged sigh, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her emotions. She glanced around the room, her eyes filled with a sorrow that pierced through the silence, leaving a lingering ache in its wake.
“I understand,” She said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ll leave you all in peace.” She turned, about to move out of the room, when Dobah called her back.
“I believe I am speaking for others too when I say I don’t know what’s going on. Curtis, is Claire your mate?”
Curtis stifled the urge to roll his eyes, at the ancient’s interference. He didn’t want anything to do with Claire, at least not anytime soon. He hoped they would respect that. However, he nodded.
Gasps escaped from the lips of the people who had been unaware of this, as if his nod had been the confirmation to their doubts.
“She is my mate, but I don’t want her.”
“Now, young man…you have to be careful…”
But Curtis wasn’t having none of it. “She rejected me!” He screamed, unable to hold in the disgust and irritation any longer. “She rejected me because she thought I was nothing. We were in the dark, so she couldn’t see my face. She had rejected me without seeing my face. She wanted Derek. She still wants him, or rather is obsessed with power. I think we should oust her out of this meeting. Both she and her family are quite suspicious.”
Clem shifted where he sat, not liking the new direction of the conversation, but knowing that he had no say over it. He was out of the loop on this one.
Maya and Freya scoffed, unmoved when a tear dropped from Claire’s eyes, and wetted her cheeks.
The girl was a hypocrite and a sly dog. They both thought. They believed that she was faking the emotions.
“I know my actions are terrible. But I’m really sorry.”
Curtis shook his head. “If I was a nobody, would you be apologizing…?”
A slight hesitation on Claire’s part sealed her fate.
Curtis just sighed loudly, and returned to his seat. Far be it from him, that he mated with a power hungry bull.
Claire, noting her error, fell to the ground, and let out a barrage of tears. “I’m sorry.” She kept saying, but no one moved to aid her, not even Clem.
Jan, however, couldn’t take the display any longer. She was not pleased with the girl’s mindset, but then she wasn’t any different. “Claire, please, give it some time. Curtis will come around. He just needs to process everything.”
Claire turned to Jan then, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and despair. “Do you really think so, Mother?”
Maya scoffed again. Mother? The audacity!
However, Jan nodded reassuringly, not adding that Curtis’ heart could be stone whenever he wanted it.
***
Legardo stepped into the dimly lit chamber, the air thick with the scent of old books and lingering magic. His eyes widened a little when they immediately landed on Arnold and Leonarya, seated closely together at a long, oak table strewn with ancient texts and arcane symbols.
“Arnold, Leonarya,” Legardo greeted them, his voice carrying a note of curiosity. “What brings the two of you together?”
The pair exchanged a quick nervous glance, a silent communication passing between them. Legardo didn’t miss the flicker of suspicion in their eyes. He had seen that look before, and it set his instincts on edge. They were beginning to distrust him.
“We’re… discussing some strategies,” Arnold replied cautiously, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. His tone was measured, almost too casual. “Just some precautionary measures for the battle.”