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31
Athousand different things happened to Cora’s heart in the split second that she realized Teryn stood before her. First was a joyful flip, an automatic response to seeing his green eyes, the tousle of his gold-touched dark hair, the broad expanse of his chest beneath the fine silk jacket he wore. Then came the sinking, the guilt over seeing his frozen posture, the tense set of his shoulders, his look of mild shock. Next, she felt a wave of anxiety along with the reminder that she still didn’t know what to say to him. With the next beat of her rioting heart, Teryn’s composure relaxed and a casual smile crossed his face. That sent a flutter of hope, a fragile, dangerous promise that everything would be all right.
“Princess Aveline,” Teryn said with a bow.
She wasn’t sure if his formality was more of a show for the passing servants or a response to her treatment of him last night. His smile remained present, but it only made her heart shift into a new emotion. This time it was shame. Shame because she knew—regardless of those precious hopes that all would work out as she wished—she wasn’t ready to tell him about the curse.
Still, she couldn’t pretend last night didn’t happen. Nor could she avoid him. Certainly not while he was standing before her. Not when her heart was so tangled with his.
She took a step closer to him. Her muscles tensed, half with dread, half with longing, as she expected him to touch her. So badly she wanted to feel his reassuring embrace. Just as badly she feared she’d fall apart if he so much as held her hand.
But he didn’t. He made no move to reach for her at all. He remained where he was, posture tall and stiff, hands behind his back. Was he merely being respectful after last night? She extended her senses, desperate to read what he was feeling, but she got back…nothing. Perhaps her own frazzled emotions were too loud.
“Teryn, I…” The overwhelming urge to fidget sent her fingers fluttering at her sides, so she folded her hands at her waist instead. She studied his face, as if she could read the words she needed to say, written somewhere on his visage. Her eyes caught on his cheek. The light from the hall window had cast part of him in shadow, but now that she was closer, she noticed a thin slice over his cheekbone. Concern replaced her anxiety. “What happened to your cheek?”
She lifted a hand to his face, but he took a step back. With a timid smile, he covered the wound with his hand. “Ah, that. It’s embarrassing to say, but I accidentally cut myself with the straight razor while shaving. I suppose that will teach me not to travel without my valet.”
“Oh.” She frowned, noting how he hadn’t let her touch him. Releasing a slow exhale, she searched his energy again, seeking whether he was truly shying away out of embarrassment…or if it was something else. Again, she sensed nothing. Not a hint of his emotions.
At least the unexpected topic had managed to banish some of her trepidation. Before her anxiety could return, she blurted out what she needed to say. “I’m so sorry about last night, Teryn. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was just…dealing with something and I needed time alone.”
He dropped his hand from his cheek. “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he said, but there was something hollow in his words. Was he hiding his hurt after all? He continued to grin but she realized it didn’t meet his eyes. “You were right to ask for space.”
“I…was?”
His expression shifted into one of resignation. Or was it apology? His smile turned sad. “I was wrong to push you into something you weren’t ready for. You accepted my proposal, but I pressured you for more.”
Cora’s brow knit into a furrow. Did he really think she’d asked to be alone last night because she hadn’t been ready for their relationship to progress romantically?
Her heart raced as she spoke the next words. “That’s not it, Teryn. I didn’t ask for space out of some need to pull away emotionally. I…I just didn’t know how to talk to you about what I was going through. But…” She swallowed hard. “I’m ready to talk now.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything.”
Her stomach sank, though she wasn’t sure if it was due to disappointment or relief.
“I trust you,” he said. “You know that, right? You’re free to keep your secrets. I’ll never pry them from you or begrudge you your time alone. Besides, you have important work to do in the tower. It would be selfish for me to keep you from it.”
Her lips flickered between a smile and a frown. While she’d hoped he wouldn’t be too concerned over what had happened last night, she hadn’t expected him to be so accepting. So dismissive. Was he posturing to hide any hurt he may feel? Or was he simply being supportive?
As if he could read the conflict in her expression, his tone turned warm. “My feelings haven’t changed. We have all the time in the world to fall in love. There’s no need to rush.”
Before she could say anything else, he took a step back and gave her another formal bow. When he rose, his eyes danced with mirth, lips quirked in a sideways grin. Then, with nothing more than the word “Highness,” he left.
Cora stood frozen for a few beats more, unsure how to feel about their exchange. Her emotions were still too tangled, too loud. Most of all, her skin felt cold, chilled beneath the broken expectations that she’d at least receive a kiss on the hand, if not a parting embrace. The absence of his touch was as painful as a slap, as was his failure to request her company for some later date. Instead, he’d just…walked away.
He’d given her what she needed though, hadn’t he? The space to finish her work in the tower. Permission to keep her secrets to herself. She’d let that be enough.
In the meantime, she could do what needed to be done.
Clean the tower.
Learn how to break her curse.
She marched from the keep to the tower stairwell and up the stairs. Both guards acknowledged her with a bow of their heads. The room was as she’d left it, the windows having been closed for the night, the hearth filled with nothing but soot.
Summoning the fiery resolve she’d felt earlier, she set everything back in place—donning her apron, opening windows, adding fresh salt to the threshold and sill, tossing her blend of herbs upon the cedar logs in the hearth. Once she was ready to begin her work for the day, she strode to the bookshelf, selected a book, and analyzed its energy. Deeming it safe enough to touch, she brought it to the hearth. But instead of tossing it in the growing flames, she set it on her lap, retrieved her knife from her apron pocket, and flipped open the cover.
This time, without guilt or shame or worry that she was doing the wrong thing, she read.
