Her fingers trace an invisible pattern on her cotehardie. “We’ve been over this.”
“Have we? Or have you been avoiding it?” I reach out, covering her hand with mine.
She withdraws and stands abruptly. “This isn’t the time.”
Tightness grips my chest, my throat. “When will it be time? We’ve danced around this long enough.”
Shadows darken her blue eyes. “It’s complicated.”
Needing to understand, I rise to face her. “Is it your grief? If so, I understand. I can wait.”
Stray strands of hair lash against her cheeks as she shakes her head. “You assume too much.”
“Then, help me understand.” I search her face. “I care about you, more than you realize.”
“Our alliance is strategic. Nothing more.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Think what you like.”
Frustration simmers through my veins. “Why do you keep pushing me away? What are you hiding?”
“Enough, Aleksander,” she says as she turns toward the door.
I take a step after her. “Asha—”
“—good night.” The door closes behind her.
My thoughts churn like a storm at sea as I sink onto the sofa. There’s more to her distance than sorrow. There are barriers I can’t seem to breach.
And somehow, I doubt it will ever change.
The door clicks shutbehind me as I step into the corridor, my thoughts still tangled in knots.
As I make my way down the hallway, a flash of movement catches my eye. Curious, I pause and peer inside a large sitting room, where Breda hums as she wipes down a table.
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Well, well. If it isn’t the fortress most industrious servant.”
Breda’s eyes meet mine as she dips into a hasty curtsy. “My Lord, I didn’t see you there.”
“Clearly.” I push off the doorframe and walk into the room, picking up a trinket from a nearby shelf. “Tell me, Breda. Do you ever tire of your endless work?”
She blinks. “No, I take pride in my work.”
“Pride?” I scoff and set the trinket back in its place. “In scrubbing and dusting? How quaint.”
A hint of pink colors her cheeks as she meets my gaze. “There’s honor in a job well done, no matter how small.”
“Is that so?” I slip my fingers into my weapon belt as I think about what she said. “And what of your dreams? Your ambitions? Surely you want more than this.”
A glimmer of defiance shimmers in her eyes as she lifts her chin. “My dreams are my own, My Lord. And I’m quite content.”
I roll my eyes. “Content. How very dull.”
“I find joy in the simple things.”
“Simple things,” I echo. “Like what, exactly?”
