Damian sat on the floor for a long while.
A butler came by twice, asking whether he wanted breakfast, but he lied and said he was feeling sick. His thoughts were a mess, replaying every conversation he'd had with Tia and Lynn and Astrid, recalling every smile and blush and giggle. And every time he felt a sickening guilt worming deep within his stomach.
This is a problem, a problem I need to solve with my own two hands. Like rebuilding a bridge, only I haven't any wood or clay. I'm stranded on the wrong side of a river, and all I seem to do is lose people.
Eventually, Damian pulled himself upright and sank onto the bed. The newspapers and letter Tia had brought him slid down and hit his knee.
That's right. I'm still a prince, first and foremost. I can't forget my duty; my reason for being here in the first place. Everything else comes second.
