“Someone has to.” Dimples appear in her round cheeks as she grins at me. “These shelves won’t dust themselves.”
I find myself actually dusting, of all things. It’s oddly peaceful.
“You missed a spot,” Breda points out.
“How dare you criticize my dusting technique? I’ll have you know I’m an expert in all things, including household chores I’ve never done before.”
She giggles, and it’s such a genuine sound. “Of course. You’re clearly a master duster. I bow before your superior cleaning skills.”
“Tell me, do you need a ladder to reach the top cupboards in the kitchen?” I ask as I twirl the duster between my fingers.
“I manage just fine.” Breda snatches it back.
“Oh? So that’s not you I hear dragging chairs across the floor at night? I thought we had very ambitious mice.”
She puffs up like an indignant sparrow. “At least I don’t have to duck through doorways like some overgrown tree.”
“Careful now.” I lean against the shelf and cross my arms. “That’s treasonous talk, mocking your lord’s height.”
“You started it.” She points the duster at me accusingly.
I catch the end of it, using it to tug her toward me. “And what if I did? Planning to challenge me to a duel?”
The laughter fades from Breda’s face, replaced by something softer. Her eyes lock with mine, wide and earnest, like she’s seeing past my carefully constructed walls. Past the masks I wear. Past everything.
My throat tightens. No one looks at me like that. Like I’m worth seeing. Like I’m...
“I should go.” The words come out rougher than intended as I release the duster. “Things to do. Kingdoms to run.”
“Of course, My Lord.” Her voice is quiet now, none of the playful spark from moments ago.
I turn away and walk down the corridor, leaving her to her dusting.
Chapter Thirteen
Annora
Curse,Aleksander.
He’s such an obnoxious bastard.
The moon hangs high in the night sky as I step through the front door of the palace.
How can Asha betroth herself to someone like him? Especially after all the grief she gave me for falling in love with Jasce?
Now, she will marry Aleksander?
Inconceivable!
A sigh escapes me as I walk through the streets of Bakva, my veil fluttering in the wind.
Soon, I’ll see Jasce again. Then, he can help me forget the strong urge to shake Asha until she sees reason.
I sigh again and slip my hand into my cloak, brushing my fingers against the letter I wrote for Jasce. It was necessary, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
Torchlight guides me as I quicken my pace. A few vendors pack up their stalls for the night. A woman sweeps her doorstep, and a drunk sings a bawdy song in front of one of the alehouses.
They’re enough to distract me from the growing unease in my stomach. Still, at every corner, I pause, letting my eyes wander—admiring a flowering vine climbing a wall, the patterns of shadows cast by an iron gate—while I scan the darkness behind me.
