"What was that? Did you almost attack Thomas because he read a letter?!" Rylen asked in disbelief.
Thomas heard Rylen's question as he walked away. There was no doubt in his mind that the crown prince would have sliced his neck open. Thomas shivered as he recalled the look in his eyes. There was no panic, no agitation—just coldness.
Thomas swore as he hopped away. What had he gotten himself entangled with? He preferred it when he hated her and didn't care. Now, he didn't know why, but he knew it would be hard to get rid of the image of her crying out of his head.
He had wanted nothing more than to see her in that sorry state. As a peasant, she deserved nothing less—but Thomas wasn't so sure now, and he didn't even know why.
He touched his neck, tracing the slight cut. It stung a little but Thomas did not take his hand away.
