Meredith knew that she was prone, on occasion, to impulsive actions that usually ended up getting her in trouble. She knew, as soon as she grabbed the king's arm, stopping him from leaving, that now might be one of those times.

He looked somewhat angry, but underneath that emotion, she could see hurt and sadness that had not been there in such great quantity on any of the other occasions she had chanced to meet with him.

She immediately let go of his arm and backed up a few steps.

"I'm sorry," she said. He didn't say anything; he simply looked at her as though shocked that she would stop him.

She took a deep breath. "Fire me if you're going to fire me, but, Sire, I think that something has upset you. Something's bothering you, and you need to talk to someone about it. I don't mean to suggest myself, because I feel that...that's not my place. But at least talk to Isabella, or someone else you trust. Perhaps your grandmother. Talk about it so you can...move on. It doesn't help, to keep it all to yourself such as you are."

He stared at her for a few more seconds before his mouth set in a frown and his eyes narrowed. "Let me ask you something, Meredith," he said, his voice cold. "If a man gave his very life for you, would you just move on?"

She felt her face grow warm in the wake of how clearly upset he was.

This time, as he turned and strode from the room, she did nothing to stop him.

Antony kept his head down and did not look back as he hurried from the portrait hall. He felt a brief pang of regret that he had been so harsh with Isabella's companion. She had merely been trying to help.

He clenched his fists at his sides.

That was his problem. He pushed people away, grew angry with himself for being weak enough for them to notice, and ran in the opposite direction when anyone did notice.

He strode through the front door, ignoring Fulton's inquiries and making his way across the palace lawns to the stables, where he waited impatiently for a stable boy to saddle one of his horses. The stable boy soon rushed over, holding the reigns to a dark brown horse, another that Antony was fond of, a mare named Sue.

He mounted his horse and, after exiting the stables, took off at a full gallop into the hills behind the palace.

Isabella sat for dinner with her mother and Kade. Antony had, after approving of their relationship, invited the general for the meal. Isabella had been thrilled when Kade had told her of his talk with Antony and she had immediately looked for her cousin to thank him. However, she was unable to find him.

Now he had yet to appear in the dining room and dinner was almost over.

Isabella finished her small glass of wine and looked down at her plate.

"Are you tired?" Kade whispered from beside her.

She shook her head. "I'm worried. About Antony. Did something happen while you were away?"

She took in the sad look that crossed Kade's face at her question and he shook his head. "We lost a man..." he muttered. He anxiously glanced at Princess Therese, who was eying them suspiciously.

"I promise I'll tell you later if Antony doesn't tell you himself," he said quickly, before straightening and turning back to his food.

A few minutes later, Isabella dismissed herself and returned to her room, entering the parlor, where she found Meredith sitting with a book in her hands.

Isabella shut the door and then came and sat down in one of the arm chairs, her thoughts wandering to her cousin. She was worried about him. She stood and crossed to the window, peering out over the courtyard. It was raining rather hard and the occasional clap of thunder was all that interrupted the downpour.

She turned, and saw Meredith watching her, only to quickly look away when their eyes met. Her companion seemed as though she felt...almost guilty.

Isabella frowned.

"Meredith?" she said, quietly. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Isabella," Meredith replied. "I'm just a bit...preoccupied."

Isabella sighed.

"I'm concerned..." she admitted to her friend. "About Antony. I haven't seen him since he returned home and Kade said that...there was something that happened on their journey. I'm afraid he'll have done something stupid like rode off on one of his horses into that storm."

She turned to see Meredith looking pale.

"I'm sorry, Isabella," she whispered.

Isabella came to sit on the ottoman in front of Meredith's chair, her expression worried. "Do you know something?" she said, her voice tight.

Meredith hugged herself, as if cold. "I...I think I've made him angry," she said, softly.

Isabella sat up, confused. "How did you make Antony angry?"

"I pressed him. Oh Isabella! I shouldn't have! I didn't have any right and..."

"No," said Isabella. "Perhaps Antony's problem is that no one does press him. He just hides everything he frets about, feels saddened by, or is hurt by, and he tells no one. I suppose it's about time someone pressed him to talk. I...I probably should have, all these years."

She sighed, and stood, crossing back to her chair to sit. "I suppose now, we can only wait. He'll come back, once he's calmed down. That's his way. Something upsets him and he escapes from the scene. He'll be back..."

Meredith simply nodded numbly, as though she didn't believe her friend. However, Isabella had lived in the same palace as her cousin for years. She knew him, and he would eventually be back

That night, Meredith couldn't sleep. For one thing, she had never been able to sleep well through thunderstorms. However, aside from that, there were her worries about Antony. She was afraid that she had pushed him too far and that he was upset and sad, perhaps even grieving for the man that had given the greatest sacrifice possible for him.

It made sense now, though, why Antony had told her that he was questioning his abilities to be king and everything about the position. She thought about how she would feel, had someone given their life for her.

She tried to get comfortable in her bed, but ended up sitting, swinging her legs over the side and standing. She simply couldn't sleep. She felt as though it were her fault that Antony was gone and upset. She also felt as though, if he did decide to fire her, it would be her fault completely that her family didn't have enough money to live on.

She made her way through the palace hallways, her bare feet padding against the floors. She made herself go to the East Wing to check if Antony had returned and she was upset by the fact that he had not. She was making her way down the stairs from the East Wing when the front door opened. The pouring rain outside could be clearly heard. She watched as Antony entered, shutting the door behind him, and standing there a few moments, dripping, before turning around and seeing her.

She stood there, on the bottom step, as though frozen. She saw him swallow, and run a hand through his sopping hair.

"I'm sorry," he said, suddenly. "I'm a fool. You were only trying to help me and...I was stubborn and rude and I have no excuse."

She met his tired eyes. "I'm sorry, too," she said. "I shouldn't have pressed you like I did. It was wrong of me."

"Perhaps not," he said, wearily. "After all, it took your words to make me realize how...stubborn in my grief I've been to anyone who's tried to help me." He sighed and looked at the ground.

"Wait here," she finally said, and then walked past him and into the servants' hallway, hurrying to the linens' storage, where she retrieved several towels. She then made her way back to Antony.

"Thank you," he said, gratefully, receiving the towels from her and attempting to wring water from his clothes and sop it up with the towels, reserving one to dry his hair.

"You're shivering..." she said, softly, touching his shoulder a bit hesitantly.

"I'll be fine," he muttered, still looking at the floor.

She nodded and took a few steps back. She watched him as he began to make his way up the stairs that she had just, minutes before, come down.

"Antony," she suddenly called, on impulse. Then she corrected herself. "I mean, Sire."

He shook his head. "You've made it clear that you're willing to speak your mind to me, no matter what title I bear. Just call me Antony."

"Antony...You should shut that window tonight. It's really cold...and you're wet...I mean..."

He smiled slightly. "I will. Good night, Meredith."

She watched him until he reached the top of the stairs and disappeared.

"Good night..." she whispered.