“Kian,” she repeats.
I smile, but when her lip quivers, I straighten. “Did something happen?”
She shakes her head. “No more than usual.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
She inhales before saying, “I’m sorry, Kian. I can’t be bound to you. The arrangement is off.”
I frown. I expected her stepmother to push back, but this is surprising.
Raelyn wrings her hands on her lap. “I never should have agreed to it. I’d make a terrible princess.”
She isn’t making any sense. I tilt her chin up so she looks at me. “That’s a lie.”
She squirms under my scrutiny. “I just can’t,” she whispers.
“What did she do?” I demand. “What could have possibly changed in a week?”
“Everything.”
“Talk to me, Rae.”
She blinks. “No one has called me that in years.”
I smile. “It fits you.”
She smiles briefly before her face falls again. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but you’d be better off courting Lady Erika. In fact, I insist you do.”
Has this woman lost all sense?
“Raelyn, I don’t understand.”
She shakes her head sadly. “I’m sorry to ruin your plan, but trust me, you can’t marry me. Court my sister or go back to Princess Helene.”
“I don’t want Princess Helene,” I bite out. Is that it? Is she upset I took an entire week to call?
Her eyes well with tears.
“Did you think I forgot you?” I ask. “I could never forget you . . . In fact, you’ve been all I could think about this past week.”
Shit, I probably shouldn’t have said that.
Chapter Twenty-Two
RAELYN
This is not going to plan. This proposed marriage of convenience should have been easy to end. He doesn’t care about me nor I about him. I merely wanted to get out of this dreadful situation, and I thought he wanted a wife in name only so he could go about as he pleases, but his words give me pause.
“You’ve been thinking about me?”
He looks abashed. “Trust me, I feel dreadful for making you wait all week. The night I got home after our agreement, my father and brother thrust Princess Helene upon me and insisted I court her despite the fact that I could not see her as a wife, only as a sister.”
My lips turn downward. “I’m sorry. That sounds challenging.”
“No need to apologize,” he insists. “I just feel bad that it took me so long to make it back out here.”
I try to wave him off, but he grabs my hand and intertwines our fingers. I want to pull away, embarrassed at the roughnesshe surely feels, though his hands are far less delicate than I expected. He must train with a sword.
