“Oh, I understand perfectly well. You chose your duty over anything that might threaten your perfect control.” Her voice had risen slightly, drawing anxious glances from the pixies. “And now you have the audacity to questionmychoice?”
“Because it’s the wrong one!” he shouted, causing the kitchen pixies to abandon their dishwashing duties entirely, darting into the pantry to hide. “You don’t love him! You barely know him!”
“And what would you know of love?” Iris demanded. “You’re too terrified to allow yourself to feel it.”
“That is not?—”
“And as for knowing each other—you’re right. Lord Hadrian and I haven’t had the opportunity to properly know one another. Perhaps we would have if someone hadn’t monopolized so much of his time with endless work on magical detection systems that will likely never see use because someone can’t bear to relinquish control!”
“My control, at least,” he snapped in return, “prevents me from angling quite so obviously for the first advantageous match that presents itself!”
Iris recoiled as if physically struck, her breath catching in her throat. She stepped back, her body suddenly rigid except for the trembling of her hands. Drawing in a ragged breath, she bit out, “There isnothingmore to say.”
Turning on her heel, she marched to the back door and flung it open. Without a backward glance, she stepped out into the storm, slamming the door behind her with a resounding bang.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The rain struckIris’s face and bare arms, carried sideways by the restless wind that whipped through the tea house garden. Though the woven canopy of branches overhead blocked the worst of the downpour, enough water slipped through to immediately dampen her gown. She barely registered the cold, her anger burning hot enough to ward off the chill as she strode blindly forward, seeking distance from Jasvian’s cruel words.
How dare he? Howdarehe?
Behind her, the kitchen door slammed once more. “Lady Iris!” Jasvian’s voice cut through the storm. “Wait!”
She quickened her pace, navigating the slick garden path between the rows of herbs and flowers with reckless abandon.
“Iris!” he called again, closer this time.
She didn’t stop until she reached the fountain at the center of the tea house’s outdoor seating area. Rain-slicked stone met her fingertips as she gripped its edge for balance, then spun to face him. He stood beneath the edge of the canopy, rain already darkening the shoulders of his evening coat, plastering errant locks of hair to his forehead.
“Have you not said enough? Must you pursue me into a storm to deliver further insults?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes filled with such profound regret that it momentarily stilled her anger. “I’m so sorry. I did not mean that.”
She shook her head and swiped at her cheek with one hand, unsure if she was wiping away rain or tears. “What is it you desire of me?”
His expression crumpled into something raw and desperate. “Please, Lady Iris, I only wish to speak with you.”
“Speak?” She gave a harsh laugh. “You wish for conversationnow? After telling me that duty and responsibility must take precedence over whatever existed between us? After ensuring your complete absence since your return from the mines? Now that I am engaged to your dearest friend—nowyou suddenly discover the power of speech?”
Jasvian strode forward through the rain until he stood mere feet from her. “You cannot enter into this marriage.”
“I have already accepted his proposal,” she replied, hating how her voice trembled. “And you have made it abundantly clear that you do not desire my company.”
His brows rose. “You must know that is the furthest thing from the truth.”
She shook her head again. “It scarcely matters, does it? You will inevitably distance yourself again, regardless of your desires.”
“I …” He exhaled, running a hand across his brow. “I need … some time?—”
“Time?” The incredulity in her voice was obvious. “For what purpose? So that you might reject me once more when you determine that your sacred duty remains of greater importance than all else?”
His next words came so softly she almost lost them to the wind. “I was mistaken.”
Iris stared at him, momentarily rendered speechless. Something fierce and bright flickered to life in her chest—hope, longing, something even more dangerous. And then, just as quickly, it was consumed by a wave of indignation that burned away everything else.
“No,” she said, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “You do not get to declare your mistake onlyafterI have pledged myself to another. Your dearest friend, no less! Would you have me break his heart now?”
“Of course not! I merely—” A sound of pure frustration escaped him, half growl and half groan, quickly swallowed by the wind’s howl. “I find myself at a loss! I have created a terrible mess of this situation. A complete disaster. I know I should never have pushed you away as I did, but I believed there was no alternative! You do not know what it is to be utterly alone in shouldering?—”
