Page 152 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

“Idesireto not feel guilty that I have so much—far more than I know what to do with it—when they have so little.”

“They hardly haveso little. From my research, the son has a fine estate from his father, and besides that your father did leave your stepfamily with a generous living. When paired with what I paid them, they are as far from paupers as you can get.”

I crumple my dress in my fists. “It’s just . . . my stepsisters’ dowries. I had every eligible man in the entire kingdom pursuing my hand. They don’t have that.”

Rahk gives me a pointed look. “More options are not necessarily a good thing.”

“Stop trying to reason away my guilt!” I cry, burying my head in my hands. The words tumble out, an echo of what I told Mary. “This mess is all my fault! If I have the means to fix something, then to stand by and do nothing makes me feel as though I’m the one committing the crime itself.”

I’m not talking about the house anymore, and I’m afraid he will be able to sense it.

Suddenly, Rahk crouches before me, gently pulling my hands away from my face. “Kat, that is ridiculous. There are things in this life that are our responsibility, and there are things thatdo notbelong to us. Meddling in the business of others does not make us their savior. Sometimes it makes us their curse.”

I shake my head, finding myself squeezing his hand hard, holding onto it to keep from fracturing into tiny pieces. He’s wrong. He means well. But he’s wrong. “I just . . . I just wish my family wasn’t this broken, ugly mess. I wish that we’d never lost my mother. But if we had to, I wish Agatha could have been my new mother.”

Speaking the words out loud make me realize just how true they are—and how I’ve never acknowledged that was what I wanted all this time. Deeper than that, though, I wish losing my mother wasn’t my fault. I wish Agatha hating me wasn’t my fault.

“Kat,” Rahk says quietly, still crouching in front of me, his face level with mine. His gaze holds mine, turning gentle and tender when I am tempted to look away. “Giving away all that you have will not repair what is broken. If you wish to give the entirety of your fortune to Agatha and her daughters, you can do that. But it will not restore the relationship with them.” Then, even quieter than the last words, he murmurs, “It won’t bring your mother back. The tragedy of your family is not your fault.”

I yank my hands away from him, the words bursting from me with a force I cannot restrain. “But itismy fault! I should be dead. Me—not Mama and Father.Me.”

The shift on Rahk’s face is immediate. I turn away from him, hating what he will read in my expression, hating that I let those incriminating words out of my stupid mouth—hating how violently tears fight against my restraints.

“Kat,” he says slowly, “whatreallyhappened on the edge of the Wood?”

I shake my head, my shoulders trembling.

He climbs to the step beside me and gathers me to his chest as the tears finally win. He holds me close with one arm and cradles my head with his other hand. I haven’t the will to resist, so I lean against him and weep.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to,” Rahk whispers at last, “but whatever happened, it does not change that you are allowed to have good things. And your existence does not take away good things from those you love.”

A loud keening rips straight from my chest. I press a hand over my mouth, biting down on my palm to keep from letting further sounds escape.

Your existence does not take away good things from those you love.

How can he say something like that? How can he just stab me straight through the heart with a few words?

Rahk tightens his hold on me, and his voice sounds almost choked. “You don’t have to earn your right to live, Kat.”

That only makes me cry harder. He can say that—but he doesn’t know what happened.

He doesn’t know that it was not Mama who was swallowed by the Long Lost Wood.

He doesn’t know that it was me.

Eventually, I pull my composure back together. It is a monumental effort, but he lets me take my time. When I finally sit up, pulling away from him, and dry my eyes, he regards me with solemnity.

“What would you like to do?” he asks.

My blurry gaze drifts toward the edge of the harpsichord visible from where we sit. “I would like the address of my stepfamily’s new arrangements. I think they left a few things behind that I don’t have use of. Then I would like to go home.”

Rahk’s gaze darts to mine, his pupils dilating at my words. He offers his hand and draws me to my feet. “Then let us go home.”

Chapter 48

Kat

Theballapproachesina blink. In the past, balls have always been a source of anxiety as I prepared for the flood of fortune-hunters. The anxiety that follows me now is of a completely different variety. Aside from our sudden wedding, I have not been in society with Rahk—much less as hiswife.

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