His question was a fairly obvious one, but it was also one she wasn't sure how to answer. On one hand, she was relieved to finally have that chapter drawn to a close, to not have to wonder what his reaction was or if he despised her as much as she imagined. (It was worst. Much worst.) On the other, she hadn't anticipated the absolute misery that accompanied knowing. Ignorance was bliss, after all. Wasn't it?

Fallon sagged down besides him, close enough to touch if he were to extend a hand but far enough that their clothes weren't brushing. Her feet ached from a long day of walking (well, pacing) the streets of London. "No," she answered honestly before reaching up to brush her escaped hair from her face.

"The argument went as well as you might expect. He hates me now." The man who had held her against his chest, who was her only reason for surviving the horrors of the Arctic, loathed her. Fallon had done the unthinkable and he would never forgive her for it. It was expected, she knew such to be the case when she wrote the letter, but Merlin did it hurt. "Do you believe me when I say I didn't know he felt that way towards me?"