Chapter 23 Kieran
Kieran
The garden is still, the midnight silence something I now crave as I walk the perimeter of the Ashcroft family gardens. I want to choose a flower for Gen that might draw her from the dark mood I saw cloud her face during supper.
Plucking a soft pink rose, one of the earliest blooms of the season, I begin making my way toward her staircase. This nightly ritual is something I can’t seem to stop, even knowing it will lead nowhere.
I’ll be leaving in two days for my country house in northern Naseria, finally allowing myself to admit that staying through the wedding is nothing more than a personal form of torture.
Gen doesn’t care whether she ruins her life with an ill-suited marriage, and my intentions have nothing to do with ruining her. She’s doing an adequate job of that on her own.
No—Genevieve Ashcroft is my own poisonous bloom, and if I remain, I’ll only give in to a fatal attachment to the woman who showed me her true self nine years ago.
The thorns of the rose bite into my palm as I take quick strides toward her room. Up ahead, limned in moonlight, I see Gen slip through the slightly ajar tower door. She scans the garden, her eyes meeting mine, and I shrug, caught once again in what’s become my nightly habit.
“Mr. Blackwell, fancy meeting you here,” she murmurs, her tone lighter than I’d expect after her dour mood at supper.
She already knows what I’m doing. There’s no point denying it. I hold out the rose, feeling the catch of the thorns as she reaches for it. But she doesn’t pull away; her hand is warm against mine as she rubs the stem between her fingertips.
“It’s lovely,” she says softly, “but you must stop this. Please.”
I shake my head, knowing I’ll willingly let her curse me, ruin me, destroy me. I’ve learned nothing in nine years from the venom this woman can extract. “You know I can’t do that, Gen. I’ve tried.”
Her fingers linger against my skin, the contact charged in a way that makes me want to pull her closer. Then, as if she senses it too, she pulls away, leaving my hands empty. The loss of her touch cuts through me like a bitter wind.
“Walk with me.” Her voice is resolute, and she looks at me with a fierceness I can’t help but admire.
“Of course.” My voice is rough, betraying the emotion coursing through me.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she explains, her eyes on the rose. “I signed the marriage contract today, and I know what you must think of me—for choosing this life, for agreeing to the Frostclaws’ demands. You don’t need to ruin me. I’ve done an excellent job of it myself.”
“You’re doing what was always expected of you. And as we both know, Genevieve Ashcroft is nothing if not obedient.”
She lets out a biting, false laugh. “Do you remember the time you came to my room after my mother removed me from shared lessons with you and Gabe? We were probably fifteen.”
I smile, thinking of that first time I snuck into her room. We were friends then, but I already knew I loved her. I’d always loved her, if I’m being truthful. “I’m still surprised no one heard me banging on that old wooden door at the bottom of the stairs.”
She laughs—a bright, joyful sound—and it makes something in me ache in a way I haven’t felt in years. Like my heart is cracking open from the hard shell I built around it.
“We snuck out of the palace and walked all the way to Crawford. Do you remember how terrible my disguise was?” she asks, and I think back to her attempt at dressing like an ordinary redblood girl.
Her clothes—even her simplest frock was far too fine, and her brilliant peachy hair gave her away long before we reached town.
“Of course. Not to mention we were both far too young to pass as old enough to order ale at that tavern. Remember how angry your mother was when reports of our adventures got back to her?”
Her shoulder brushes mine as she looks up, her smile fading. “We didn’t see each other for nearly a month after that. Twenty-seven days apart. It felt like a lifetime—but in that time, I was reminded why I must be obedient. The lesson was strictly enforced.”
“Gen.” My voice drops to a whisper as I catch her hand in mine. “I’ll say this only once more. You don’t have to do what they expect of you. For fuck’s sake, you’re an adult—the future queen.”
She pulls her hand back, and I know my words are lost to her. “I know. This was my decision, and with the Frostclaws’ amendment to the marriage contract, I don’t want my choice forced on my sisters. I want them to find love.”
Her stubborn refusal to find another way out makes my blood heat, and I look down. “This is why I must go. I’ve already decided to take on the railway project under your reign, but I cannot watch you destroy yourself.”
She nods, her expression resolute. “I understand why my wedding will be difficult for you to see. You were the only one who ever got me to follow my heart—but my heart has been broken for far too long to trust it anymore. In time, I hope you’ll understand why I’m choosing Leland.”
I say the truth, the part my insecurities have always known. “You never would have chosen me, Gen. Why is it any different this time?”
I turn away, unable to face the hurt I know will be in her eyes—because despite her words, a part of Genevieve Ashcroft still wants me.