CHAPTER 79
The heavy thud of the throne room doors closing behind Caleb sounded like a coffin lid snapping shut.
Isabella tried to move, to run toward the servants' quarters where she knew Bella was hiding, but the vision kept dragging her along in Caleb's wake, keeping her to a man who was unknowingly walking away from his heart.
In the armory, the air was cold amd still. Caleb worked with a grim efficiency. He strapped on his leather vambraces and buckled his sword belt, his face a mask of steel.
But Isabella saw the truth in the way his fingers lingered on the hilt of his blade—not out of readiness for war, but out of a deep, vibrating anxiety.
"One week," Caleb muttered to the empty room, his voice a jagged rasp. "I only needed one more week to get her out of this place."
He grabbed his heavy traveling cloak and headed for the stables. The courtyard was bathed in the sickly grey light of pre-dawn.
