After covering the wound with her special paste and rewrapping it, I’m feeling almost as good as new.
“You might want to hold off on training that shoulder for a few days,” she says.
“Got it. Healer’s orders.”
She shakes her head and mumbles something under her breath that sounds vaguely like she doesn’t know what to do with “foolish bleeding-heart princes.”
“Shall I send your usual payment?” I ask. A bob of her head is all I get, and I hop off the table. “Thank you again,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“Get out of here before someone sees you,” she reprimands. “Oh, wait.” She turns back to her workbench and reaches up on the shelf for a small pouch. “Here are your monthly contraceptive herbs.”
I utter a thanks and stuff them into my pocket. No use telling her I haven’t had much need for them despite the prolific rumors that circulate about me. As much as everyone thinks I’m sleeping my way through our kingdom, I haven’t been with a woman in quite some time. All the vigilante shit has kept my evenings full. Yes, I might stop at parties just to show my face, and I may have slipped into some dark corners and exchanged kisses among other things, but no woman has fully captured my attention inquite a while. Untilher. I should have known from the moment we met that she’d be trouble.
Chapter Twenty
RAELYN
An entire week passes with neither sight nor sound of the prince. Perhaps he truly is going to marry the princess like the rumors say.It’s better this way, I try to rationalize as I carry out yet another chore. With no word of when Father will return, my betrothal didn’t stand a chance of happening anyway.
Chessa wasted no time and commandeered my room the very day I left it. Consider me shocked. At least it wasn’t Erika, but her betrayal will always hurt the most. Sometimes I question if she ever liked me at all, or if our pleasant memories are nothing but lies.
I’m also starting to wonder if Stepmother has heard the rumors about me not belonging . . . but that makes no sense to me. Surely Father wouldn’t accept and love me the way he does if he wasn’t actually my father.
Since it’s looking like the prince’s plan is not going to come to fruition, I’ve started dreaming of escape. Perhaps I am delusional, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my days waiting on my family and being treated worse than our paid servants.
Only, if I did leave, I’d have nowhere to go and no way to provide for myself unless I stole from my family. My only other hope remains in Father’s return. I have to believe he will not be okay with the way Stepmother has been treating me. Perhaps when he returns, he will set things right, or I can beg him to send me to live with our distant relatives in Sillamae.
All I know is that something has to change. It’s as if I’m withering away on the inside. I’m becoming no one. No longer allowed to do anything that brings me joy, but forced to work so hard from sunup to sundown that all I have energy for is collapsing into bed every evening.
The rest of the servants have stopped calling me “my lady” these past five weeks, and I’m just Raelyn now. That part doesn’t even bother me; I actually prefer it—if I can’t belong with my family, I want to belong somewhere.
I’m carrying a basket of sheets when a commotion from the front of the manor pulls my attention.What in the realms could that be?
Stepmother’s shrill voice echoes down the halls, but it’s unclear to me what she’s saying. Were we expecting guests today? I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary on my list of tasks. Usually, if Stepmother is entertaining, she makes me clean the parlor twice for good measure. As if the dust could multiply in an hour. I snort in annoyance just thinking about it.
A velvety baritone voice drifts down the hall, and I freeze. I know that voice. Has the prince finally deigned to show up? I’m simultaneously angry and excited—perhaps a little bit scared. Stepmother does not sound pleased at his appearance, which is absurd when I really think about it. A prince is in our home, and she dares to speak to him like that?
I shuffle as silently as possible toward them, hoping to overhear some of their conversation.
“This simply isn’t the time for a visit, Your Highness,” Stepmother says, sounding miffed.
The prince’s unworried, smooth drawl sends a shiver down my spine. “I apologize for the lack of notice, my lady, but theresimplywasn’t time to send word.”
I bite back a laugh at how he throws her words back in her face.
“Lady Raelyn is not available for callers at this time,” Stepmother replies.
The bitterness coating her tone makes my stomach ache. The prince is finally here, but she won’t even allow him to see me? I debate the merits of “accidentally” waltzing into the foyer. She would be furious, and I hate to think of how she’d take it out on me. Does she realize the prince recognized me the last time he was here? Does she know he’s aware of my current status as maid in the household? If I were to come out and embarrass her, there’s no telling what she’d do to me.
“Is she ill?” the prince asks.
“Nothing like that, Your Highness,” Stepmother replies.
Idiot.He might have actually bought that lie if she’d been smart enough to play along.
“Lady Erika is available if you’d like to call on her,” Stepmother continues.
When the prince doesn’t reply right away, my heart drops. Would he give up so easily? What should I do? He’s perhaps my best chance of escaping this hellscape.
