Chapter 14 – Raelyn
Chapter Fourteen
RAELYN
Ihave never been more humiliated in my entire life. Well, perhaps that’s an exaggeration, but running into Prince Kian while cleaning the floors is not what I had in mind for today, or any day, for that matter.
Why do I even care? Perhaps because I still have some pride left despite Stepmother’s attempts to break me down. The last time I saw the prince, I still had some status in my own home, and now . . . I sigh. Now I’m the family’s primary housemaid.
Once again, water sloshes out of my pail, and I bite back a curse.
Dropping to my knees, I sop up the mess, which again reminds me of earlier.
I flush when I recall the filthy words that came out of my mouth in the prince’s presence—mad that I even care what he thinks.
I’ve heard the rumors about the playboy prince.
Though I hadn’t officially met him before the ball, my sisters love to share court gossip.
According to them, he has never seriously courted anyone and is rumored to be with a new woman every night. Him choosing to dance with me meant absolutely nothing. I was just the latest in a long line of conquests, not that he conquered me.
I can admit to myself that he holds a certain appeal.
His quicksilver eyes drew me in, heating parts of me I thought long dormant.
The phantom touch of his hand around my wrist flares as I recall the look in his eyes when he realized how far I’ve fallen in the month since I saw him last—my dried and cracked hands unable to hide the destruction wrought by harsh soaps and chemicals despite my attempts at healing them with oils every evening.
No. I have no interest in the prince. I need to put him out of my thoughts and memories.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I make my way to the kitchen to empty my bucket of its filthy contents.
After ringing out the rags, I deposit them in the laundry basket.
That’s my next task, and I shudder; my hands will likely be in even worse shape after that.
There isn’t a hope in my heart that I’ll have any energy to spare for my needlework later this evening.
I almost miss the occasional finger pricks, which pale in comparison to the abuse my hands suffer now.
An icy breeze blows through the door as one of our cooks enters the kitchen with a basket full of produce, and a sudden longing for fresh air fills me.
The laundry can wait another moment. I still feel fine after my accidental sun exposure this morning, and an irrational part of me thinks being sick in bed for a few days might actually be better than cleaning from sunup to sundown.
Like a string pulling me, I’m drawn to the door and step out into the late afternoon sunlight. My breath catches as its rays warm me from the inside out despite the cold. My hands start to tingle ever so slightly, but I continue to breathe deeply as I turn my face to the sun.
“Now that’s a sight,” a low, familiar voice remarks.
My heart skips a beat as I turn toward the prince. “What are you still doing here?” I demand, annoyed yet somehow thrilled that he’s managed to disturb my brief moment of respite.
“You wound me, love. It’s almost as if you don’t want to see me.” He smirks.
I can’t help but roll my eyes. “First you were in Father’s study, which I’m sure he wouldn’t approve of, and now you’re wandering the grounds without an escort?”
“I’m a prince. Why would I need an escort?”
My jaw drops. “Entitled much?”
He laughs brightly, and the sound sends shivers down my spine. Why do I love his laugh so much?
The prince tilts his head. “Cold?” He starts to shrug out of his overcoat, but I hold up a hand to stop him.
“No, thank you. I’m quite all right.”
He frowns as he pulls his coat back into place, and the harshness of his features instantly make me long for his laughter again.
“Shouldn’t you be back at court doing ‘princely’ things?” I ask.
He quirks a brow. “Trying to get rid of me again, my lady?”
I scoff and point at my ruined clothes. “Clearly, I am no lady anymore.”
He tuts as he takes a step closer. “While some might say clothes make a lord, a lady, or even, daresay, a prince”—he pauses and flashes brilliantly white teeth at me—“it is one’s character that defines them.”
“That was oddly . . . profound,” I reply.
Hurt crosses his features, and he steps away. “What? Is it so hard to believe that the playboy prince has an ounce of profundity to him?”
I open my mouth to respond, but he waves me off. “I’m fully aware of how people speak of me and what my reputation is.”
The surge of empathy I feel toward him almost chokes me. Perhaps I’ve misjudged this prince.
“While my reputation as the reclusive Astoria might not be quite as negative as yours, I do empathize with the pain of not being understood.” I offer him a smile, and tension leaves his body, his own lips turning up slightly.
Clearing his throat, he says, “Regardless of what brought me here, perhaps our meeting is of the gods’ design. I have an idea I wish to speak with you about.”
I frown. What in the realms could he possibly want to discuss with me?
The prince looks up into the sky and then at me, worry creasing his brow. “Is it safe for you to be out here now? With the sun?”
I shrug. “It’s complicated, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
He frowns again. “Okay . . . in that case, would you please walk with me?”
Hesitating, I chew on my lip and look around. I really ought to be starting the laundry before dinner, and I hate to think of the foul mood Stepmother will be in after the prince’s unexpected visit.
“I don’t know, Your Highness.” I tug on the fabric of my skirt. “While clothes might not define a person, I’m still expected to complete the tasks Stepmother has for me, and the day is running out.”
“This won’t take long, but I really would rather not be overheard,” he replies.
My interest piqued, I glance around once more. “Okay, fine. As long as you make it quick.”
He dips into a slight bow. “You have my word, my lady.”
I take his proffered arm without a second thought. The prince frowns as he stares at my hand. Immediately self-conscious, I try to pull away, but he starts walking toward the gardens, and I quicken my steps to keep up with his long stride.
“So, Your Highness, what is it you wish to discuss?” I ask.
“I’m not sure how far the rumors have spread, but perhaps you might have heard my father intends for me to marry by the end of the season.”
My heart skips a beat. It seems to happen quite a bit around him. Why is he telling me this? “And this is something you are looking forward to?”
A wry laugh leaves him. “Absolutely not. I have no desire to be bound in marriage.”
The odd flicker of disappointment surprises me.
Not that I have any reason to care one way or the other.
“Forgive me, my prince. I’m not quite sure what any of this has to do with me.
I’m sorry you’re being forced to wed though.
I, for one, think marriage is a waste of time if you have no actual interest in it. ”
The prince stops and turns to face me. “Perhaps this will work even better than I thought.”
“Pardon?”
“Let’s get betrothed.” The words tumble out of him so quickly, I surely must be hearing wrong.
“What?”
“It’s perfect,” he declares. “Neither one of us wants to be wed, but on paper, it will make my father happy, and with the status of our betrothal, surely your stepmother will have no choice but to release you from these ridiculous chores she has you doing.”
I sputter in shock. I don’t even know where to start with this absurd idea and the conflicting feelings overwhelming me.
“Let me get this straight,” I say. “You want me to be bound to you in name only just to please your father and to get me out of doing laundry?”
A laugh bursts out of him again, and I hate how my body responds to it.
“Something like that, my lady. You can live your life how you choose, and I can live mine. We can make up some excuse regarding heirs so you won’t need to worry about that either for the time being.”
Warmth heats my cheeks at the insinuation, and I look down at my feet. What do I even say to that?
“No need to look so scandalized, love,” the prince teases. “As I said, this would be on paper only, no need for it to go any further than that, as you’ve made it clear you’re not interested in marriage.”
True as that might be now, what if I were interested someday? If I were bound to the prince, that would take away any chance of me ever having a real marriage. Was that something I could live with?
“I . . . uh . . . That’s an interesting offer, Your Highness,” I finally reply, daring a glance back up at him.
His lips turn down. “I thought for sure you’d jump at the opportunity.”
I should. I really should. My home is not my home any longer. I’m miserable and tired, and life has felt so entirely hopeless.
The prince gently turns my face back to his, and I loathe how I respond to the simple touch. “Do you need more time to think it over?”
Staring into his eyes, I wonder if I’m about to make the biggest mistake of my life. My stomach is doing somersaults, but I take a breath before saying, “Okay.”
His brow rises. “Okay?”
“Okay as in yes. I’ll marry you.”
“Perfect. I knew this plan would work.” He grins.
Oh gods, I’m in trouble.
“But I have some requests,” I add.
“Oh? Already?” He shakes his head before motioning with his hand. “Out with it.”
I bite my lip, noticing how his eyes dart toward the movement and linger before he raises them back to mine. “I don’t want to be the laughingstock of court.”
“Go on.”
“If we are to wed in name only, I am sure you will still have needs that must be met.”
“I do admit, I’m quite curious where you are going with this, love,” the prince replies. I can’t stop the blush as he takes a step closer. “Are you offering your services to meet my . . . needs?”
“Gods no!” I exclaim, even as the flutters in my belly make it hard to breathe.
A wicked grin curls his lips. “I’m still very much intrigued.”
I blush even more furiously. “Nothing like that, Your Highness. I just mean to ask . . .” Gods, why is this so hard?
“Yes?”
“What I was trying to say is that I’m aware of your reputation, and even if our marriage is on paper only, I do not wish for everyone at court to think I’m unworthy of your affections.”
A flicker of understanding lights his eyes. “I see.”
“Do you?” I ask, hating that I even need to try to explain myself . . . explain these thoughts.
“You’re asking me to stop my ‘playboy ways.’”
“Yes—well, no . . .” I stammer. “I realize you have needs. I would just request that you be discreet in the ways that you meet them.”
The prince stiffens, and I note the way he clenches his fists at his sides, but he nods. “That’s fair.”
I heave a sigh of relief but tense up as the prince takes another step toward me.
“And what of your needs, love?” The way his voice envelops me sends another rush of heat, only this time, it heads south.
“My . . . needs?” I stammer.
He takes one more step, and our bodies are almost close enough to touch. I have to crane my neck to look him in the eyes. What in the gods’ names is his game?
“It’s only fair,” he continues. “I’ll keep my needs met discreetly so long as you do the same.”
I swallow, and his gaze drops to my throat. “I can agree to that.” My voice comes out all breathy. I hate it.
“Good.”
“Good,” I repeat. “Oh, and one other thing.”
“Yes?”
“Stop calling me love.” Our gazes hold, and for a moment, I forget to breathe, but then he winks.
“Now that’s too much, love.”
He steps back, and the sudden breathing room brings a sense of relief along with the tiniest prick of disappointment.
I take a deep breath. This is probably a huge mistake. “So what now?”
The prince looks thoughtful. “I suppose I need to speak with your father about the marriage contract. Do you happen to know when he’ll return?”
I shake my head. “I would like to hope he’ll return soon, but I have no way of knowing. He hasn’t sent word.”
“That will definitely slow our plans,” the prince muses.
I have to admit, I’m confused why it matters to him. Surely if he told his father his intentions, that would assuage the king’s concerns. The delay only really affects me.
“Perhaps you could come back to the manor later on and inform Stepmother of your intention to court me?” I offer. “Surely she couldn’t turn you down.”
“I suppose.” The prince smirks. “That just means you’ll need to suffer my presence once more.”
I scoff. “It could be worse. I could be doing laundry.”
The prince places his hand on his chest. “Once again, you wound me, lady. I am only better than laundry?”
“Only slightly,” I tease, offering him a smirk.
“Fine then. I will inform my father of my intention to court you, and when I return, hopefully the news will improve things for you here at home.”
I nod. “I hope so.”
“Well, I should be off before someone catches us out here alone. Best not start our relationship off with a scandal.”
“How kind of you, Your Highness.”
“Kian.”
“What?”
He smiles, a softer one than I’ve seen. “Please call me Kian. If I am to be your husband, we can do away with some of the formalities.”
“Kian,” I test out. It will take some getting used to. Court formalities have been drilled into me my entire life, but I suppose he is right.
Kian grabs my hand and presses a soft kiss to it. “Until we meet again, my la—”
“Raelyn,” I interrupt.
A devilish smirk makes him far too delectable for words, and I can’t ignore the butterflies in my stomach as he replies, “Farewell, Raelyn.”