How thoughtless am I?
Giddeon sat before the fireplace in his chambers, staring aimlessly into the flames. All he could think about was how he approached her in such a way, and with what feeling in she responded. It was not right. She was destined for his cousin, his best of friends! To be Queen of his country! She was supposed to be in love with Alezander, eventually.
She was unlike any Princess, any girl, he had met before. Many times he had played mildly with other women in such ways, and it had been no ordeal, yet she had captured him in a way none other had done before. Together, they were close companions, sharing such a companionship that Giddeon had never had before with those of that sex.
Was he in love with her? It seemed so. But she seemed in love with him, and that pained him the most, but also, more importantly, was the main problem.
How could he have allowed himself to do such a thing?
He would have to do something. He could allow this to go on any longer; he had pressed it too far, and she was too attachted to him.
It would have to end. He would have to end it.