"I thought you were different," Rosalind whispered softly, almost more to herself than to him as tears slipped down her cheeks. "I thought what we had was real."
Rowan stepped forward instinctively, reaching his hand toward her, but Rosalind immediately stepped back before he could touch her, leaving his hand hanging helplessly in the air.
"What we had was real, Rosalind," he said quietly while gripping the cold iron bars of the cell. The metal burned with coldness against his skin, yet the distance she placed between them hurt far more. "Every feeling I had for you was real."
She replied shakily. "If you truly cared about me, then you would have avoided hurting me like this."
Despite the way her heart wanted to break apart right there in front of him, Rosalind forced herself to remember that he was not simply the Rowan she knew anymore.
He was the King of Eryndor.
And that truth was slowly hardening her heart.
