Somehow, she had not been expecting him to yell. The roar of anger that left his mouth surprised her, and her head flew up, her ears pinning momentarily in defense. As soon as the words had left her mouth, she had regretted them - regretted bringing up what she had forgiven him for, regretted blaming him for that which was beyond his control. But wasn't that exactly what he was doing to her?

Like her, Gaucho seemed trapped in a vortex of pain and anger, effortlessly switching between the two in his efforts to control the ebb and flow of battle. They did not come to blows - though she wondered briefly how he restrained himself when she could see such fury in his eyes - but she almost wished that they would. That they could fight it out, kick each other, bite each other, hurt each other. Surely physical pain would be preferential to the slow crushing of her heart?

"Wrong." And she felt wrong - broken, lonely, almost numb, almost tired of feeling anything at all. What made it worse was that she knew she was being unfair. She knew that she should have left certain things out of it, that she should never have brought up the Moon Goddess and her treachery. But now that she had said it, now that she had started down this path, there was no turning back. She could only go forward. "I know that," she snapped, tears burning behind her eyes. "I know it wasn't your fault, Gaucho. That's the point. I never held that against you."

Gaucho raised his head away from her, and the dove looked away. He didn't want her. He didn't want to be near her, and he sure as hell didn't want to love her. Not anymore. The tiny flicker of hope that had remained in her breast grew smaller, threatening to be extinguished, to finally leave her in the cold dark place of solitude that she had avoided for so long. "I'm not blaming you for what I did. I'm not blaming you for what Kaj did either. He should never have -" A heavy sigh left her. He would never understand, and she was wasting her breath. She blamed him for not seeing that she had never meant to hurt him. She blamed him for not listening when she told him that she had not left on purpose. She blamed him for not understanding that she could not interrupt his new relationship with an old, stale one.

She was all too aware of her own failures. She didn't need his reminder.

"I never left on purpose," she insisted. "I love you, Gaucho. I never would have left you - or Zeno, or Rhoa, or Ivezho, or Aelin, or Hawke - I never would have left any of you on purpose." She took a small step forward. Her tone took on a hint of desperation. "You have to know that." But somehow, she didn't think that he would believe her.

"I never asked you to wait forever. I returned and I thought you had moved on. I thought you have found someone else. And I - I accepted that, as much as it hurt me." She swallowed hard, looking back up to search his eyes for any shred of feeling. "But I've never wanted to share you, Gaucho. I couldn't come back you you if you were with someone else, if you were happy without me. I couldn't come crawling back to interrupt when you had let me go, when you thought I was gone for good. I couldn't - I would have wanted you to choose. Me or her. I didn't... what if you chose her?

"I'm not blaming you, but I'm not going to accept responsibility for disappearing when I never left on purpose, not one time. I have made other mistakes, I know that, and I am sorry, Gaucho. If I could take it back... I have failed you, time and again. I only ever tried to do the right thing. I only ever tried to make you happy - or let you be happy without me. I just - " The dove turned away, clenching her eyes closed, wishing that he would do something, anything to end the torturous pain that she was in.

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