He felt, more than saw her fall back, and he wanted to stop, needed to stop, but he needed to keep walking more. Before he had begged her to give him another chance, and she had turned him away, what did she want now? For him to promise only to have her cast him aside again?
The staircase loomed in front of him, and he reached for the banister and just let his hand rest there as he stopped. It was worn under his hand, thousands of hands had skimmed up it over hundreds of years, but none, he thought, more unwillingly than now.
A glance over his shoulder and then he turned around and retraced his steps swiftly, turning down the corridor she had gone into, his eyes adjusting to the dim light as he looked for a glimpse of dark red hair.
"No." He said, his voice so quiet it was almost inaudible. "No. I'm not."