Cassius did not believe himself stubborn. Not in this. He knew he wasn't always right in solving problems; he had been wrong before, and he could admit that. But how could he possibly summon the cruelty to tell Arabella the truth? That if she were to die again— if her fragile, irreplaceable life were snuffed out once more— she would be the catalyst that kill an entire kingdom?
He had already watched her unravel when she discovered she was a witch. He had seen how that knowledge alone fractured her heart, nearly crushed her spirit. To heap this weight upon her shoulders as well felt no better than plunging a blade into her chest.
Yet… what Atlas said had struck with the precision of an arrow.
If Arabella had kept such a truth from him— if she had chosen silence over trust, deciding that he was too fragile, too incapable of bearing the knowledge— he would not only be hurt, he would rage. He would feel betrayed. He would believe she did not trust him, even for a second.
