Page 128 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

“I wouldn’t say that,” Rahk replies, shifting his gaze back out to the lawn. “From the letter, it seems your stepmother deserved every bit of your rebellion. This is a dark betrayal indeed.”

“She might have done itbecauseI was rebellious. Maybe if I hadn’t tried so hard to make her life difficult—”

“You were a child mourning the shocking and unexpected loss of your parents, and placed in the care of a woman who did not love you,” Rahk cuts in, shaking his head. “I’ve seen a lot of black deeds in my time, but taking advantage of a someone under your protection to swindle them out of what is rightfully theirs might be one of the worst I’ve encountered.”

I don’t like Agatha, but I can think of plenty of things much worse than what she’s done. Murdering me in my sleep, for one. That would be worse. “I hardly doubt she could stand up to the faults of the fae,” I argue.

Rahk doesn’t reply at first. He runs his thumb along his jaw, considering. “If you don’t mind me asking . . . what were the circumstances of your mother’s disappearance?”

“Circumstances?”

“Yes. Why was she down at the Wood’s edge? Was anyone with her at the time?”

I rub my shoulder. I don’t like thinking about that day, but if I don’t answer him, he will think I’m hiding the truth from him. “Father took Mama and I to see the harvest. It was something we did every year. He would bring us to see the full fields and we would eat a picnic in the grass.”

Rahk nods slowly.

I force my voice to be steady. Careless. This happened ages ago—none of it matters anymore. “We were playing hide-and-seek among the stalks of wheat. Then . . . the border moved. It just came like a wave, swallowing up the wheat—and Mama.”

That haunting image of trees surging forward, of Mama’s smile suddenly turning to terror right before she vanished from my view, brings a need to retch. I keep myself controlled, however.

“What happened then?” asks Rahk.

I look away. I hate looking at him when I lie. “The Wood stopped. I screamed and tried to run in after Mama, but Father grabbed me and wouldn’t let me go. He shouted her name for a long time. I don’t know what happened to her. I’ve heard there are many Fae Courts, but I don’t know which one she was imprisoned in.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” says Rahk.

He says it so simply, so gently. Suddenly, we’re not basically strangers in a sudden marriage, but friends on either side of a Fool’s Circle board. My barriers, so carefully erected to keep him out, are swept away before I can prevent it.

The next thing I know, I’m crying. I swivel my body away from Rahk’s, covering my face. Why did he have to say that? Why does he have to care? He doesn’t want to be married to me—he made that clear last night. So why does he show me kindness today and make me cry when Idon’t want to cry?

His large, warm hand lands between my shoulder blades. That touch breaks me even more, bringing the tears harder. He doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” I gasp between ugly sobs. “I will stop. I promise.”

His thumb moves slightly at my shoulder. “I hate crying in front of others too.”

That shocks me enough to stop the flow of tears and whip my attention toward him. “You cry?”

“It has been a few decades, but I never enjoyed it.”

A delirious chortle bursts from me. It seems to break the spell, and I draw a shaky breath of composure. “Crying is horrible.”

“A wretched experience, indeed.”

I truly laugh this time. A slight smile cracks his impenetrable façade.

He gathers his long legs and gets to his feet. “I will leave you to your day. Please be kind enough to join me for supper this evening.”

“I . . . well . . . of course,” I say, not able to come up with anything else as I watch him walk away.

Chapter 39

Rahk

Mymindturnsoverthis new information as I march into the house. The image of Kat’s trembling shoulders refuses to leave me. I think of all the times she didn’t buckle—like when she took a knife from an assassin. I don’t want to care about her past. She lied to me so many times, refused to trust me, and got us into this mess of a marriage.

Truly, though, I care. I care a frightening amount about the wrongs done to this woman. I successfully kept my composure in front of her.

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