Before I say something I regret, I turn up my nose and walk past her.
The door thudsbehind me as I march down the manor’s steps toward my horse. Was it all a fool’s errand? Does Cary even have what I need?
He has to. I have no other leads, and I’m desperate.
Father has also been getting on me about not having chosen a wife yet. His threats to arrange a marriage loom over me like a hangman’s noose. The absolute last thing I want is to be tied to some simpering lady who only cares about which dresses she can commission for the next ball or party at court.
Of course, perhaps that is exactly the kind of woman I need to keep my vigilante work unnoticed . . . but then wouldn’t she expect me to attend said parties with her? I can’t win. No matter who I end up with, my marriage will effectively shackle me into a life I don’t want. Maybe I just need to get it over with and procure a back-up heir so Father will loosen the reins a little and allow me to go on my quest. Except our people are running out of options. Our land grows more barren with each passing season, and I’m not sure how much time we realistically have left.
I pace in front of my horse, and he gives me what I think is a wry look—if horses can do such a thing. What am I still doing here? I need to be on my way, but something holds me back.
Jade eyes flash in my mind. Is she close to her father? She did seem rather protective of him and his space. Is it possibleshemight know of the information I seek? Not that our latest encounter did me any favors with her. But still . . . what if there’s a way to solve both of our problems? She didn’t ask for my help, but I hate how she’s being treated. Past hurts aside, I’m finding it hard to let go.
Moving on impulse alone, I walk toward the side of the manor. Godly intervention, or restlessness? Not sure, but in this case, I choose to trust my instincts.
Chapter Fourteen
RAELYN
Ihave never been more humiliated in my entire life. Well, perhaps that’s an exaggeration, but running into Prince Kian while cleaning the floors is not what I had in mind for today, or any day, for that matter.
Why do I even care? Perhaps because I still have some pride left despite Stepmother’s attempts to break me down. The last time I saw the prince, I still had some status in my own home, and now . . . I sigh. Now I’m the family’s primary housemaid.
Once again, water sloshes out of my pail, and I bite back a curse. Dropping to my knees, I sop up the mess, which again reminds me of earlier. I flush when I recall the filthy words that came out of my mouth in the prince’s presence—mad that I even care what he thinks. I’ve heard the rumors about the playboy prince. Though I hadn’t officially met him before the ball, my sisters love to share court gossip.
According to them, he has never seriously courted anyone and is rumored to be with a new woman every night. Him choosing to dance with me meant absolutely nothing. I was just the latest in a long line of conquests, not that he conquered me.
I can admit to myself that he holds a certain appeal. His quicksilver eyes drew me in, heating parts of me I thought long dormant. The phantom touch of his hand around my wrist flares as I recall the look in his eyes when he realized how far I’ve fallen in the month since I saw him last—my dried and cracked hands unable to hide the destruction wrought by harsh soaps and chemicals despite my attempts at healing them with oils every evening. No. I have no interest in the prince. I need to put him out of my thoughts and memories.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I make my way to the kitchen to empty my bucket of its filthy contents. After ringing out the rags, I deposit them in the laundry basket. That’s my next task, and I shudder; my hands will likely be in even worse shape after that. There isn’t a hope in my heart that I’ll have any energy to spare for my needlework later this evening. I almost miss the occasional finger pricks, which pale in comparison to the abuse my hands suffer now.
An icy breeze blows through the door as one of our cooks enters the kitchen with a basket full of produce, and a sudden longing for fresh air fills me. The laundry can wait another moment. I still feel fine after my accidental sun exposure this morning, and an irrational part of me thinks being sick in bed for a few days might actually be better than cleaning from sunup to sundown.
Like a string pulling me, I’m drawn to the door and step out into the late afternoon sunlight. My breath catches as its rays warm me from the inside out despite the cold. My hands start to tingle ever so slightly, but I continue to breathe deeply as I turn my face to the sun.
“Now that’s a sight,” a low, familiar voice remarks.
My heart skips a beat as I turn toward the prince. “What are you still doing here?” I demand, annoyed yet somehow thrilled that he’s managed to disturb my brief moment of respite.
“You wound me, love. It’s almost as if you don’t want to see me.” He smirks.
I can’t help but roll my eyes. “First you were in Father’s study, which I’m sure he wouldn’t approve of, and now you’re wandering the grounds without an escort?”
“I’m a prince. Why would I need an escort?”
My jaw drops. “Entitled much?”
He laughs brightly, and the sound sends shivers down my spine. Why do I love his laugh so much?
The prince tilts his head. “Cold?” He starts to shrug out of his overcoat, but I hold up a hand to stop him.
“No, thank you. I’m quite all right.”
He frowns as he pulls his coat back into place, and the harshness of his features instantly make me long for his laughter again.
“Shouldn’t you be back at court doing ‘princely’ things?” I ask.
He quirks a brow. “Trying to get rid of me again, my lady?”
