Page 62 of Façade

Her uncertainty wasn’t at all reassuring. “Can I check to be certain?”

She hesitated before managing a slow nod. A cursory glance inside her mouth proved insufficient, so I carefully inserted my finger past her lips—not the most romantic of gestures compared to my recent rebellious fantasies with her lips—but desperate times called for desperate measures. I felt around in search for any lingering trace of food, though that would do little good if she’d accidentally swallowed some with her saliva. How poisonous was holly? Would that little bit be enough to kill her?

“How are you feeling?” I withdrew my hand to rest it against her brow. She wasn’t warm, nor was her skin clammy, but I wasn’t well-versed in poisons enough to know their symptoms. “Are you well?”

Rather than answer, she stared up at me, confusion glistening in her eyes. “Is this another act to deflect suspicion?” Her whisper choked her words.

Offense found its way through my rising anxiety, but I had more pressing matters than defending myself. I seized her wrist and practically dragged her towards the stream, sacrificing gentleness for speed. I hastily filled my canteen and handed it to her; rather than take it, she eyed it warily, as if suspecting it too contained poison.

“Rinse your mouth, Evie.”

The order emerged sharp in my urgency. She startled, and after a moment’s hesitation, she ignored my canteen and knelt on the ground to scoop the water up with her left hand while her right remained stained red at the tips. I monitored her long enough to ensure she’d rinsed her mouth thoroughly, and even longer to assure myself that she wouldn’t suddenly keel over dead.

She noticed my staring. “Ryland—“

“Are you alright?” I demanded, again far too harshly. At her nod, the tension cinching my chest slowly eased and relief surged. I knelt beside her and seized her in a tight embrace. She immediately stiffened, and rather than letting me hold her as she had last night, she shoved me away.

“Don’t,” she hissed. “Just…don’t.” To my relief she seemed more confused than genuinely upset with me, as if the fragile trust we’d built prevented her from fully believing the conclusion every clue pointed to.

Still, our earlier tranquility had vanished, as if seized by the disappearing curse. Her hostility wounded me even as I didn’t blame her for pushing me away, not when my handkerchief where the poisoned berries had awaited her served as a confession to a crime I wasn’t entirely sure Ihadn’tcommitted.

But at least the embrace had caused the walls she’d erected between us to falter. Her gaze skittered towards the discarded berries littering the ground, flickering between them and me, before she studied my expression with far more earnestness than she ever had, as if searching for something she was desperate to find. Though her own expression remained stoic, I sensed her inner battle, as he she was fighting against sense to trust me.

Her tense posture gradually relaxed. “You didn’t poison me?” It came out as a mixture of a question and a statement, as if she still wasn’t quite sure what to believe.

“Of course not. If I wanted to poison you, I’d have done it long before now.”

I tried to make my tone teasing in an effort to alleviate the suffocating strain, but the effort fell flat, as if the tension had squeezed all humor from the air. Frustration that she still didn’t believe me warred with my inability to blame her for harboring such distrust towards me, despite my wish that things were different. My shoulders slumped as the fight gradually left me.

“In truth, I’m not entirely certain Ididn’tdo it.” The uncertainty gnawed at me, but it was nowhere as painful as the thought that I might have inadvertently harmed her far beyond what I already had. “I’m so sorry, Evie.”

Her accusatory glare softened, even as her wariness remained. “But if it wasn’t you…”

She didn’t give her statement as if she thought someone else might be responsible, only that shehopedso. Confusion furrowed her brow, a look less accusing and more weary. I fought the impulse to wrap my arms around her in an effort to protect her, a gesture that would be unwelcome from the very man she felt the need to be protected from.

Gradually she secured her old mask over her emotions before turning away, her back a barrier of mistrust that felt impossible for me to ever penetrate, a return to the contention that had plagued the beginning of our marriage—a time that felt both distant yet all too recent. I reached towards her to graze her back or even to capture the ends of her untidy hair…before allowing my hand to drop in defeat.

Though our impending separation meant she’d never truly been mine, in that moment I felt as if I’d lost something infinitely precious.

But this loss was nothing to my raging remorse at the thought that I might have accidentally given her poisonous berries, as if the subconscious workings of my duty had wrangled free from the influence of my shifting heart and guided my actions. The sharp guilt consumed me, as if I’d been the one poisoned rather than her.

When I’d assured myself she was truly well, I left her in the care of my most trusted guard and conducted my own investigation, desperate for any distraction from what I’d inadvertently done. I wasn’t entirely certain what I expected to find, just anything to explain the unease knotting my stomach that something wasn’t quite right. I searched the surrounding area for any sign of foul play and asked every guard if they’d seen anything suspicious, but I found no clues to confirm my unsettling feeling, leaving me perplexed.

Despite wanting nothing more than to delay our journey, I suddenly yearned to escape this crowded clearing and the uncertainty that hung heavy in the pine-scented air. We mounted our horses and resumed our trek, this time with Evie and I riding some distance apart, despite my urgency to remain near her in order to protect her. Silence crowded the space between us, an endless chasm that felt impossible to ever cross.

No matter how many steps forward we ventured, something else always set us back. But perhaps it was for the best. After all, distance would make it easier to endure her absence when I was finally forced to let her go.

CHAPTER20

EVELYN

Ilooked ahead at the twisting mountain trail stretching before us, trying to gauge the remaining distance to discern how much longer I had with Ryland. The monastery grew steadily closer, but all I could focus on was my husband riding slightly ahead. Regret pressed heavily against my heart as I stared at his back, a wall once more dividing us.

I felt horrible that I’d accused him of attempting to poison me, even as I still warred with the possibility that he was the most likely suspect. My heart wanted to believe that, despite everything, he’d never hurt me, even as logic persuaded me to see sense that despite our being on our way to a much simpler solution, he stood to gain the most from my death. His frantic reaction had given me hope that he wasn’t responsible, yet my accusations had still pushed him away, leaving me already missing him.

It’s for the best, I reminded myself. I’d been growing complacent in trusting him too easily, something that would leave me ill-prepared for what lay ahead. I needed to be on my guard if I had any hopes of achieving the duties I’d assigned myself. I might not be a princess, but Iwouldprotect my kingdom from the prince, no matter how much I’d grown to care for him. For if I didn’t have this duty tying me to the identity I’d lost…who was I?

Perhaps this uncertainty was the true reason I’d reverted to my old mistrust of Ryland: it’d be easier to let him go if I fabricated a reason not to hold on to him.

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