A Traveler's Curse

I don't want her blood staining my conscience, Caspian!" I yell at the king, my voice trembling with a mix of fury and sorrow.

"It's not on your hands, Kyla! It's on mine! When I discovered she had poisoned you, I could have personally beheaded her!" His words reverberate in the room, the weight of his guilt palpable as he squeezes his cup so hard that the glass shatters in his hand.

"If you really care, why didn't you come to see me in the infirmary?" I demand, tears streaming down my cheeks in frustration.

"Because I couldn't bear to witness your death! Because if you had died, I knew deep down that you deserved better than me! You deserve better than a man who could execute someone he had known his whole life, a woman he had fucked for years, and feel nothing but relief at her death!" His voice echoes, filled with anguish, his eyes betraying inner turmoil even as tears refuse to fall. He continues to ignore his bleeding hand.

"I can't believe you mean that," I whisper, my disbelief mingling with heartache.

"I do mean it, Kyla. I'm relieved that she is no longer here to get between us. But what does that say about me as a man? The actions I have taken! The actions I continue to take! They are not always right, or just. And most of the time, I don't lose a wink of sleep over them. Is that the kind of man you want to be with?" His breaths come in heavy gasps, his attempt to regain control evident, while I stand before him, speechless and unsure of how to respond.