HIM
I should know better than to eavesdrop by now.
I don't.
The hushed, angry tones are what initially capture my interest, but then I recognize Limonskiy's and Adah's voices and find myself drifting towards the vent that conveniently carries the sounds of their voices to me from the larder.
"I know how you feel about me being here, you needn't remind me." Limonskiy snaps.
"And yet it seems I must! You know what you put at risk being here." I inch closer, holding my breath.
"Of course I know! I know better than anyone!" I hear Adah sigh, sounding defeated.
"I only wish you would think about Thomas."
I blink, feeling as though I've been punched in the stomach.
Thomas.
I don't stay to hear 'Beth' talk about her dear husband. Bitterness floods me and I understand with sudden vivid clarity why Laura runs away. The feelings are too much, too suffocating and all consuming. If only I could outrun them.
But how do I outrun the knowledge that the woman who left me, the woman I've loved for years, has a husband with an inn. Who's probably kind, and Anglorian, and nothing like me.
Thomas Prescott.
Why did he make her change her name? If it was just her last name perhaps I would've understood. But making her go by Beth?
The very small, rational part of me knows it was probably her choice. God help the poor bastard who tries to make that woman do anything. A very large, traitorous part of me wonders what it would've been like if she stayed.
Would she have married me?
Stop.
Laura and Aleksi Kazarin.
Stop. Please.
But apparently my brain enjoys pain because the image it conjures, Laura in a white dress, smiling at me, wide and open like I've only seen a few times.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force the pictures out of my head.
They each lodge their way into my heart, sharp and painful. Unbearable.
Thomas Prescott.
HER
Despite my decision to ultimately not tell Aleksi the truth, I decide that there's no reason not to be friendly.
The image of Aleksi and Sara together replays again and again in my mind.
"He's in love."
Adah's words match the perfect picture they present.
But then, why weren't they more "together"?
Maybe not married, but at least betrothed?
Or maybe they were and everyone was too generous to tell me.
I consider it for a moment and decide that if that was the case, Amber definitely would've told me. Probably wouldn't have stopped talking about it.
I sigh as I lean against the willow tree.
The branches sway gently in the breeze around me as I work a small hole into the dirt with the toe of my boot. Soft birdsong transitions the rolling fields into night. The summer heat of the day fades into a gentle warmth, making it easy to be outside.
Right on schedule, and yes, I realize it's more than a little ironic that I memorized Aleksi's schedule like he used to do to mine, he arrives into the small courtyard.
A strange expression crosses his face before it's replaced by a polite smile.
"Beth."
"Aleksi."
I try to appear casual, surprised even, about his appearance out here. Usually, after dinner before bed he comes out here for a while, but perhaps something needs his attention today, because he pauses like he's remembering something and then gestures towards the house.
I feel my chance slipping through my fingers so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
"Don't mind me, in fact I have something to ask you, come sit?"
He seems hesitant, so I put on my placating smile and he shuffles over and we sit on the bench.
For a moment, we sit in silence.
I use the quiet moment to steady myself. I take deep breaths and close my eyes before finally speaking.
"Can I get your measurements?"
His head whips towards me and he looks at me like I'm speaking another language.
"Um," I start, pouring all my energy into my smile, "So I can customize a livery for you? I did the last one by eye but it would be easier if I actually had your measurements."
He's looked away from me before I'm done speaking, face grave.
Silence stretches on between us.
I rub my hands on my skirts, trying to alleviate the sweat that beads there. It takes all my willpower not to fidget as he remains quiet.
Did he hear me?
"I mean, if you don't want me to—"
"What would Thomas think?"
For a second I think I've misheard. I mean, I must've.
Because how could he know… Thomas? The name sparks in my brain like the beginning of a headache, making my blood run cold. My fear had only gotten worse after all these years of running and hiding. It must be making me hear things.
"I'm sorry?" I say, fighting to keep my smile.
"Thomas." He finally looks at me, his face is cold, devoid of feeling. "What would Thomas think of you fixing a livery for me?"
Once, when I was a child, I fell down the house stairs, and when I landed at the bottom, I couldn't breathe. It was like all the air had disappeared from the world.
I feel it again now.
I clench my hands to stop the familiar trembling I feel coming on.
"You know?" The words come out unbidden, and they're whispered, full of vulnerability.
He doesn't even answer, just looks back out at the fields.
I feel tears start to pool in my eyes, and panic squeezes its icy hands around my heart.
My mind is stuck on it: he knows.
"Amber told you?"
A betrayal. She told me she wouldn't, that it was my decision.
"Adah." He scoffs it, like it means nothing.
The word is a knife to the gut. When she kept it from him in the beginning I assumed that, though her primary loyalty was to Aleksi, she understood my situation.
My headache is in full force now, and bile pushes its way up my closing throat.
Apparently I was wrong about her and Aleksi.
Because his expression now? It's disdain.
Disgust.
Disappointment.
Shame and humiliation burn in me, hotter than ever before.
There are probably a hundred reasons his disdain burns me more than anyone else. A hundred useless reasons. I have to turn away from him, and I bring my hand up to my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut.
From the beginning, I should've known.
Yet, I hoped.
I hoped beyond hope that Aleksi of all people would understand. Not just why I left when I did, but also why I was so upset when I arrived. I try to harden my heart to him. To not care that he thinks less of me because of what I've been through.
But I just feel raw and bruised.
I stand up, unable to bear it another second.
"Well. That's that then."
I walk away before he can respond, only starting to run when I know he can't see me anymore.
Tears slip from my eyes now, burning my eyes and creating hot streaks down my face.
He hates me for it.
I take the stairs two at a time, stopping only a moment when I miss a step and bash my knee into the marble stairs. The pain is dull compared to the torrent in my chest.
Worthless thing.
As I move, the voice in my head takes on a familiar deep timbre. Thomas.
This is all your fault. He growls at me.
I grip the final corner as I round it, launching myself towards my room.
He hates you.
Stop. I beg.
Pathetic.
Dirty—
I freeze.
Usually, when I'm this close to a panic attack, there's no way to stop it. Like seeing a dark storm cloud coming over the horizon. All you can do is wait it out.
But when I turn the corner into the maids' hallway, everything, even my impending storm, stops.
They haven't seen me, haven't heard me.
I stand, dumbfounded, trying to comprehend the scene in front of me.
Sara is enthusiastically kissing someone who is definitely not Aleksi.
Unless, of course, Aleksi somehow looks exactly like Lady Anna.