Do not start crying.
For the love of all that's holy, do not start crying now.
Celia chanted those words in her head over and over.
Lord knew she wanted to weep, partly from anxiety and partly from her sore back. The rest from sheer humiliation. An entire village had seen her be tossed aside and left on the side of a road like unwanted refuse. The daughter of a king. By her own husband and courtiers.
Tobin had even ordered her two maids to follow him, instead of staying behind with her! What were Tamar and Herleve supposed to do on a journey with no mistress to serve?
He wouldn't have given that a second thought, Celia knew that well. He'd just been hellbent on hurting her as much as possible with his actions. He'd succeeded.
She didn't care at all that she'd never make it to the shrine. Especially if it meant she avoided having to share a carriage with the man she despised.
She just hated feeling so fucking powerless.
