He pulls my face toward his, cupping it with his large hands.
He wants to kiss me, I know he does, but he doesn’t. Even as I try to bridge the distance between us, he runs the hands that were on my cheek through my hair as he lets me go.
My stomach drops.
I wanted to kiss him too, despite all his faults and failures.
“Come with me,” he says, pulling me by the hand back to the hidden corridor’s door.
CHAPTER29
?BE MY GUEST?
?RAF’ERE
“Come with me,”I tell Marta as I drag her to the service corridors.
She’s trusted me, she’s given me her body, she’s asking me for help to understand this world.
I can take a step today and prove to her I am worth trusting.
I drag Marta quickly down the service corridor, but my pace is one that she’s not able to match.
“Raf’ere, slow down,” she huffs, unable to catch her breath. “Why are we running, what’s going on?”
My feet feel leaden, making my legs fumble as I drag her behind me. I can’t stop and explain because I’ll lose my nerve. No longer can I keep her locked away forever. The loud little human has wormed somewhere into my heart when I wasn’t paying attention. Some deep care for Marta compels me to hold myself accountable to her. I have to prove myself worthy.
I can do this, together we can do this.
Past the chapel, at the end of the hall, is a set of locked doors. I pull my data pad out, knowing full well what’s happening right on the other side of these doors.
I click the button, unlocking the doors, and kick them wide open. Marta’s hand is in mine as I step through.
The sea of unblinking blue eyes stares at us as the house staff has been enjoying their evening meal together. A few cooks are lingering in the attached open kitchen, preparing our first course.
“Your Grace?” Even Jens’i looks surprised, his fork hovering on the outside of his mouth.
“This is Marta,” I boom through the room. “She is my…my…”
Mate, mate, just say the f’teeing word!
“Raf’ere?” Marta strokes the inside of my arm, as confused as everyone else in this room.
“She is a royal guest, and will be treated as such,” I tell them.
I am a coward.
“Yes, Your Grace.” The staff, snapped from their daze by my request, responds in unison.
“Hi,” Marta says, still clinging to my arm. She raising a hand up for an awkward little wave to the dining fi’len.
The room, still thick with confusion, is at a standstill. I hate how they stare at her. I want to tell them to shut their eyes—that she is mine and mine alone. But she will never love me if I treat her like a captive.
“Is there anything else you need assistance with, Your Grace?” Jens’i asks.
“No, continue your meal,” I say before turning heel and dragging Marta with me.
My hearts still beat in a furious rhythm from the fear of opening up Marta’s world. A buzzing begins in my ears, and I swear I can feel pain in my scars.
