Book Two: The Larkspur's Longing ~ A tale of deep obsession and devotion

Chapter Thirty-six: Honesty

At midnight, Callidus guided Cressida down the dark stairwell of Windridge. Despite his exhaustion, a vibrating, energetic anxiety surged through his tired limbs, propelling him forward as he half-carried her, half-leaned on her.

Cressida remained silent, likely still processing the sight of the empty sitting room and the destruction he had wrought in a fit of anger.

"...and so," Callidus concluded. "I tore open his throat to create the illusion of an animal attack."

"Quail told me animals don't enter Windridge," Cressida uttered faintly, her face drained of color.

"They do, but I squish them," he replied as they reached the final landing.

As Callidus led Cressida out of Windridge tower, his mind buzzed with the weight of impending revelations. The truth, once locked away in the recesses of his being, now demanded release.

"Where shall we go, my love?" he asked, his tone filled with a giddy nervousness. "The Guest wing, my study, or the royal tombs?"

Cressida's eyes widened, flickering between the options. Callidus observed the interplay of emotions on her face - wariness, curiosity, and lingering suspicion. In the corridor, torchlight cast dancing shadows on the walls, and the air between them crackled with a tentative truce.

"I thought you were going to reveal everything, Callidus," she said quietly. "Are you saying I can only pick one?"

"No, love," he assured with a tight smile. "Simply where we start."

Cressida was silent for a moment, before she murmured, "...can we visit my people, Callidus?"

Callidus blinked, taken aback by her request. "It is late, Cressida. They are likely asleep."

"I want to see them, Callidus. After all this time, I want to know they're alright."

"I've told you that they have been treated well," he replied, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone.

"They're imprisoned, Callidus."
"They've been imprisoned for less time than you have."
"Oh, so I'm back to being your prisoner?"

Callidus frowned, a trace of annoyance crossing his face. "You're not my prisoner, Cressida," he sighed, weary of their old argument. "...though you have been imprisoned."

"Remind me who imprisoned me?"

"My love, I may have imprisoned you, but you held me captive first," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

"I need to see them, Callidus," she said, pulling her hand away, though a faint blush lingered on her cheeks. "If you're truly willing to reveal everything, then take me to them. Now."

"Very well, dear," he conceded, uncertainly resigning himself to a path he hadn't anticipated.

With a trembling hand on the small of her back, he guided her through the corridors. The weight of secrecy and the burden of his lies pressed heavily upon him, but he steeled himself for what lay ahead.

Guards passed by in disciplined cadence, their armored footsteps reverberating through the narrow passage. With each passing figure, Cressida flinched, prompting Callidus to tighten his grip on her.

"Why so jumpy, love?" Callidus whispered into her ear. Cressida tensed against him, before shaking her head, choosing not to answer. "Cressida," he murmured. "I've simply increased the patrols to search for your companions. But you have nothing to fear when you're with me."

"Why do you have to search for them? Why can't you just let them go?"
"Cressida, we discussed this."
"I don't agree with your reasons."
"I am aware. And that is why my orders are to capture them alive and unharmed."