Bastian arrived at their room in the guest wing within five minutes, an impressive feat considering the distance between the Tzar's study and the guest wing.
His hand paused on the door handle when he heard voices inside. Without hesitation he knocked, his foot threatening to tap from the urgency he felt in his veins.
His eyes were filled with a desperate hope, but also a desperate worry. He wasn't sure if he loved her.
'I love her.' He said in his mind. It felt strange. But… he rather liked saying it. He loved her. He froze for a few moments, waiting for something to happen that would dissuade him. But nothing did. His heart only pounded more.
The door clicked open and he blinked to see Hydrangea there. Her dress was the same as it had been before, a rather lovely, simple blue dress overtop of a large white shirt that billowed around her arms.
She left the door, not even glancing at him as he walked in. He began to doubt the Tzar's words and his heart became heavy.
While he was lost in thought a maid exited the bath chamber with a bucket and broom. As she walked past him he glimpsed inside the tin pail and saw black hair.
His eyes shot to Hydrangea who was sitting on one of the white couches, her hair in a bun.
He rushed over and grabbed the bun.
"Hey! Ouch. What are you doing?" She asked, a note of panic in her voice.
He didn't answer and instead focused on undoing the bun.
His shoulders dropped and he took a step back when he did. Her hair had been cut. It had lost at least seven inches; where it had once rested below her tailbone, it now rested below her shoulder blades.
He met her eyes and saw that she was watching him, her body turned to face him from her seat on the couch. Hesitancy in her eyes, but he also saw a fire in them.
He was feeling a fire of his own, "How dare you cut your hair!" He burst out.
She blinked and her brows rose in surprise at his outburst, "Why?" She asked standing up, "Why should it be a problem that I cut my hair?"
He stalked around the couch and towards her, "Because, Hydrangea, I am your husband and I wish to know when you plan to do things such as that."
Her chin raised and her silver eyes were cool, "It is my own hair. You don't get a say."
"Oh, I don't?" He asked taking another step towards her, "And why don't I? Is it-"
"Because Bas-Sovereign, it's my hair. It's too long and if I'm coming with you to Selva, it needs to be-"
"You're not coming to Selva." He said firmly and she shook her head.
"Why not? We've journeyed everywhere else together, why can't I go with you to the jungle country. And let me tell you this," She took a step towards him with a finger raised, "You will not be going there alone."
"Oh, I don't plan to."
Her brows raised in a false impressed expression, "Oh, indeed. And who's coming with you?" Her grey eyes scrutinized him carefully.
"Who is coming with me, is none of your concern. But Hydrangea," His voice changed to a pleading note, "You needn't have cut your hair." He reached for one of the wavy tendrils that had fallen over her shoulder.
Her face turned a shade of red and he didn't hide the smile that came to his lips.
"It was getting too long, I couldn't brush it myself and…"
He let go of the strand of her raven hair and watched her. She was watching the curtained windows, fussing her lip. He furrowed his brow at this, she wasn't usually one to bite her lip.
He grabbed her wrists gently and her gaze snapped to his. He bowed his head to see her. Grasping her chin gently, he said, "Hydrangea, what worries you these days?"
She turned her head away, her eyes glancing at the doors. He ignored it and continued.
"I see it in your eyes, you hardly ever meet mine." He steeled his nerves to speak his mind, it was a rather unsettling experience. "You're nervous, you stutter." He paused a few moments, he could see in her turned face that she was upset he'd seen her nervousness. "Hydrangea, tell me what's wrong." He coaxed gently.
She frowned and pushed away from him, "What's it to you?" Her Crescent accent leaked in and he heard her curse. He chuckled softly, but sobered in remembrance of her question.
Walking again towards her she continued to back away till she met the foot of the bed. She looked at him fearfully and he merely shook his head, "It matters a great deal to me, Hydrangea. I don't like seeing my Queen so hesitant, so fearful and so nervous."
She didn't meet his eyes and only stared at the floor.
He took the last two strides and came face-to-face with her, her chest flush against his torso. Her breath hitched and her eyes widened, meeting his. She silently took him in, and he her. Her round eyes, her sleek brows, her delicate and peach blossom tinted lips set in her pale, smooth skin.
He slowly drew his hand to the nape of her neck. With a hushed voice he muttered, "What secrets are hiding behind those silver eyes?"
He could feel her pulse increase underneath his fingers and see her round pupils dilate. His own heart began to race at that sight. He began to lower his lips to hers, very slowly, waiting for any indication that she'd object.
Just as he grazed the sensitive flesh and he felt the spark igniting within him, stirring him on to deepen the kiss, she pushed him away.
"No! No." The panic in her eyes made him sigh in aggravation. She crossed her arms over her heaving chest protectively and moved away from the bed, towards the bath chamber.
"Why not, Hydrangea? Huh?" He asked, his words laced with impatience. He'd never realized just how much he wanted to taste those lips.
"Because. We can't kiss!" She exclaimed, spreading her arms as though it was the most impractical thing imaginable.
"And why not?" He said, enunciating every syllable, "I am your husband. You swore an oath to me, and I to you."
"We both know those were lies."
"And what if I take it back? What if I want to be your husband, to be faithful to you and to love you as a husband should?"
The room elapsed into silence, his chest heaved with emotion, his eyes boring into her turned head.
The silence became deafening and he found it hard not to rush over to her and turn her to face him. But he stood his ground, his breath still trembling.
"I could never love you, Bastian." She uttered into the silence, then turned and walked into the bath chamber, the door closing behind her.
His heart thundered in his chest. He blinked his eyes and palmed them furiously when they burned with tears. Her words had cut a knife. He didn't know what he could've been thinking, she couldn't love him.
He'd been a fool, kissing her?! And why did he get so upset about her hair? What was wrong with him?
He sat on the bed, still massaging his eyes till they turned red, the tears only rubbing salt into the wound.
She would never love him, he admitted morosely.