Frustration flares inside me. Frustration for everything I still don’t understand about my cursed mark and the Bloodstones’ magic. Frustration for still not setting sight on Roland and his successor. Frustration for not winning Gabriel’s favor.
I stood in front of him naked, and all he did was ask me to put clothes on. What more does he want from me? Should I climb on him? Maybe then he’d consummate our marriage.
Or maybe he doesn’t find me beautiful. Desirable. Touchable.
Maybe his heart still belongs to that woman who hurt him. She shattered him and left me to pick up the pieces.
Jealousy sprouts to life in the center of my chest. It shouldn’t be there. I should pluck it out and never allow it to grow.
Even though I haven’t found a way beneath his skin, he has thoroughly found his way beneath mine. I want to kiss him again like the night of the festival. There’s passion buried beneath all his masks. So much passion. If only I knew how to chip at it until he gives into his desires with me.
I turn enough to catch sight of him, to watch the up and down movements of his back as he sleeps. I want him to like me. Really like me. Not because of my desire to win. No. I want him without any barriers. Any ties. Any past. Any future. I want him for a breath in time. A flash of sunburst against the bright sky. I want him the way a woman wants a man.
Though, I have no right to ask. No right to want any of this. I ball my fingers into a fist and shove it against my mouth. When I decided to marry him to stay here, I never thought it would be so hard.
He is Bloodstone.
I am Kyanite.
It should be easy. All of this should be easy.
Instead, there’s this growing tightness in my chest. This growing guilt festering inside me.
If only everything were different.
If onlyIwere different.
ChapterThirty-Eight
Father made me callous. The day Mother died, he forced me to dry my tears. He yanked me from our home and moved me into the brothel he owned. He didn’t comfort me. He didn’t hold my hand.
Instead, I was left to my own devices. It took one of the women in the brothel to teach me to read and write. And when the Kyanite healers took me into their apothecary and taught me to heal, he never visited me. Not even once.
Two months after arriving in Astarobane, the Bloodstone people throw a large celebration in the middle of the town square again.
I spend most of the evening next to Gabriel. When he’s near people, he holds my hand and keeps me close. When nobody is looking, he practically ignores me.
Instead of showing my irritation, I smile and act like I’m exactly where I want to be. After all, I cannot fault him for his distance. I wear masks too. So, how could I ever be angry that he dons one when we’re in public? I cannot.
As moonlight straggles across the square, Gabriel encourages me to find a seat in one of the chairs near the fringes of the celebration.
I settle in my chair and observe the dancing couples. Most seem enthralled with one another. A few look like they would rather be anywhere but dancing with their partner.
My gaze catches on Leah on the far side of the square. She doesn’t dance. Instead, she talks to a small group of men.
Out of my peripheral vision, I observe Gabriel speaking with Luc and Hero. The Bloodstone people stare at the Carnelian the same way they always do, as if he’s a rarity.
“Did you hear the most recent rumor?” Hero asks dryly.
Luc gazes over the crowd, his attention caught on Kassandra talking to Everly.
“You’re not listening to me.” Hero nudges Luc with his elbow.
“What?” Luc asks, his attention still locked on the woman standing on the other side of the room.
A rare smile forms on Gabriel’s mouth. “He’s more interested in Kassandra than what you have to say.”
Humor sparks in Hero’s eyes. “I noticed.” He nudges Luc again, finally gaining his attention. “Did you hear what I asked you?”
