Damn you for making me show you I care about your opinion! Part of her wanted to scream the words at him, but she knew that would only instill the fact, and also probably wake the sleeping princess.
She was about to remind him that he'd had a habit of disappearing over the last few days, when he surprised her instead.
"Thank you, Rayne."
Gratitude? From a king? Rayne's heart raced. What could she possibly have done that was worthy of a fae king's gratitude?
"W... what for?" Rayne asked, barely able to get the words out.
Before answering, the king stepped forward until they were almost chest to chest, and took hold of her hands. "For what you did last night."
He inclined his head toward his daughter, who still seemed utterly oblivious to their presence in the room. Yet he never took his eyes off her, gazing into hers with such intensity that even if she’d wanted to look away, she couldn't have.
"It is my job," Rayne responded, shrugging her shoulders. She couldn't bring herself to admit that it had been her pleasure to look after Elia. There had been a bond between them ever since she began working in the palace, and yet she couldn't bring herself to admit it for fear of what it might mean for her and Asher. If she admitted her bond with the little girl, she might be one step closer to admitting her bond with the father too, and after all the hurt he’d caused her, she wasn't ready to do that.
"I’ve never known a governess to put so much care into her job," Asher announced, and Rayne felt herself beginning to tremble. She had to lock her knees just to stop them from wobbling, fearful that Asher might feel the vibrations through her hands, which he was still holding.
She opened her mouth to say something that might put him off the conversation entirely, but he didn't give her the chance. Instead, he took a deep breath and said, "I was entirely wrong to reject you when the kingdom offered you to me. There must be something I can do to fix what is broken between us."
At the word 'broken', Rayne suddenly remembered how much it’d hurt in her chest when he’d rejected her in front of all those people. She also remembered how much her heart had hurt when he hadn't come to tuck his daughter in the night before, and how she still blamed herself for it all.
With a deep inhale, she forced herself to take a step back. If she remained close to the king now, she might never be able to give truth to her words. He didn’t try to resist as she slipped her hands from his. She forced herself to look him dead in the eye as she said, "Your Grace, I'm sorry, but I’m not sure there is anything you can do to fix the hurt you’ve caused me."
Unable to bear the thought that he might continue to try, unable to imagine that she might let him, she turned and pushed the door open. Relieved that the guards on the other side made no attempt to greet her, she hurried from the room.
A part of her thought she heard the king calling her back, but she didn’t look around. Instead, she hurried on, headed for her room and the veritable safety it afforded her.
Then she remembered her mother would be there, and she began to slow her pace, wiping at the tears that had begun to roll down her cheeks. If her mother saw her crying, she would demand to know what had happened and as soon as she heard, she would once more praise her daughter for using reverse psychology to win the king's heart. It made her feel sick to her stomach to think of it that way. That wasn't at all what she was attempting to do. All she was attempting to do was tell the king exactly how he’d made her feel and be honest with him. Yet a part of her knew she wasn't even being honest with herself. If she were, she might have already forgiven him and fallen into his arms.
Chapter 14 - Asher
"Your Grace, I'm sorry, but I’m not sure there is anything you can do to fix the hurt you’ve caused me."
The words still rung in the king's ears hours later. He’d been pacing up and down his bedchambers for hours, trying to come up with some kind of plan to see everything put right, yet the more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became, and the further from a solution he seemed to slip.
When it had all become too much for him, he’d sprung into action, ordering his servants around as if they couldn't move fast enough. Determined to have something set up and ready for that evening. It all seemed to have come together perfectly with only a couple of hitches along the way.
Now, instead of pacing up and down his bedchambers, he found himself doing the same in the gardens. In a small, secluded spot, protected by a willow tree, he’d had a dining table set for two and a dance floor erected beside the pond. Lanterns hung from every branch of the willow tree and lined the winding pathway down to the table. He’d gone to tuck Elia into bed, hoping to invite Rayne to dinner himself, but when he’d found that a maid had taken her place just minutes before, he’d sent Paxton off to find her with a note.
Now, the longer he waited, the more he began to wonder whether he should’ve delivered the invitation in person. Maybe she would already be here if he’d offered to escort her down to the gardens himself.
I should’ve asked her to walk with me and surprised her, he realized, his heart clenching with regret. Now he would never know where he stood until she arrived, and even then, he might be setting himself up for a slapped cheek and utter rejection.
It's what I deserve after all I’ve put her through, he thought, remembering how just an hour ago, he’d overheard two servants whispering about how they felt so sorry for the governess, how she’d been rejected by the king and forced to care for his bastard instead. Normally, he would’ve punished them simply for calling Elia a bastard, but today he was in no mood for confrontation, especially not if he would have to face it with Rayne. Instead, he’d slunk away, trying to forget he’d ever heard a word of their conversation. Yet it continued to haunt him now, even as he gave up pacing and dropped down onto the nearby stone wall.
With his head in his hands, he was unprepared for the footsteps he heard crunching toward him on the shingle path. Startled, he raised his head, hope flaring in his chest. Perhaps she’d come to him after all.
Only half expecting to see her beautiful face as the footsteps sounded around the corner of a bush, Asher instinctively rose to his feet. He quickly straightened his green and gold waistcoat, hoping he didn't look as flustered as he felt.
The moment the fae appeared around the bush, he knew he need not have bothered. Paxton's face was sunk with sympathy and Asher's stomach clenched. He struggled not to yell at his advisor and tell him not to look so pitying. He couldn't stand anyone pitying him, especially not over this, over something he had caused.
"She isn't coming, is she?" He demanded as soon as his advisor stepped into the light.
Paxton, who had dropped into a bow as soon as he approached, straightened up and began to shake his head. He didn’t meet the king's eyes as he announced, "She would not entertain the idea, Your Grace."
Anger instantly began to flare up inside Asher and he had to remind himself once more that this was his fault, his problem to solve.
Why does she have to remain so stubborn? he wondered. He had only ever known one woman so stubborn before this and his heart threatened to break every time he thought of her. Elia's mother hadn't been heard from since the day she’d fled his father's palace on the mainland. There had been several reports of sightings, some even claiming she’d been killed, but there had never been any proof, and Asher had long since given up hope of ever locating her. Yet even as Rayne’s reaction caused him to think of her, Asher realized one thing: he’d never felt for Elia’s mother the way he felt for Rayne now. He’d felt lust and a need to have her. He’d felt angry and frustrated at her leaving. He’d been confused and alone. But none of that compared to the bone-chilling, chest-aching pain he felt at Rayne’s rejection right now.