Genevieve is too quiet as we leave Mrs. Jenkins’s home. The widow cried at our feet, begging me not to remove her from her house now that Mr. Jenkins has succumbed to a lifetime of working in the mines without proper protection. That was the way of it before I purchased the mine—widows had one week to vacate the premises or be tossed into the streets with no shelter. Not that those former excuses for homes were even adequate to begin with.
Now I’m expanding the growing town of Aldridge, replacing weathered old shacks with respectable cottages, schools, and proper medical facilities. It’s coming along, but not fast enough. I want these families to know they have safety and security here.
That’s what has Gen so subdued. I can see it in her expression. She’s realizing this mess falls on her family’s shoulders. They’ve failed to take even the most basic interest in protecting their people, and she has to know she’s been complicit in that.
It stings, knowing she sent me here and no one from her family cared to find out what that decision meant—for me or for my father. All I can hope is that witnessing what a helachite mine truly is, and all the work I’ve put into improving conditions, will light a fire under Gen to bring about real change across the industry. I can’t own every damned helachite mine and fix them all myself. I need help—and I want her to see how important this work is.
We chose to walk back to Huntley House, despite the heavy clouds threatening to open in a deluge. I think both of us needed the fresh air and time to process the day. From what I can tell, Gen is receptive to what she’s seen, and she seems to understand the larger implications of her rule. I want to trust her—I want my mind to feel what my traitorous heart has always felt—but after years of betrayal, after all the ways the Ashcrofts have failed this country, I don’t know if my head can catch up to my heart.
Her hand brushes my arm, and I look down at her pensive expression. “I had no idea what this place was like,” she says, shaking her head.
I grunt. “Yes, well—at least you’ve come now.”
“But my mother’s disinterest is horrid. What else has she neglected as queen? Is there any part of the country that’s truly comfortable? Or is that only in Crawford?”
“I don’t know what the rest of the country is like. I haven’t traveled south of Crawford. But there are still mines operated by others—less willing to give their workers the arrangements I’ve offered mine. Without regulation, they’re trying to outpace me and make a profit as quickly as possible. What they don’t understand is that without proper smelting or safety standards, they’ll never achieve lasting success. If you let them go unregulated, you’ll have a national disaster on your hands.”
Her face pales. “There’s so much I still don’t know. My mother prepared me for life at court—for ruling from a distance—but perhaps that’s not what I want. Or what Naseria needs.”
I run a hand through my hair. “You have to decide what kind of ruler you’ll be, Gen—and you’re running out of time.”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she folds her arms around her waist, frowning as we walk the last stretch toward Huntley House.
If Gen is going to make a real impact, she’ll have to rule differently from her mother—and from every blueblood who wore the crown before her. I don’t know if she understands that yet, or if she’s even willing to hear it. I don’t want to push her, not before I know what she intends to do with what she’s seen.
If she turns her back on these people—choosing courtly comfort over fighting for those who need her most—then I want nothing to do with her. I’ll let her go again. I’ve been broken by her once; I can bear it again.
But the way she treated the miners, the way she came to my side in the night and cared for me—makes me think she’s capable of ruling differently.
Last night felt like a fever dream, like an angel descending to soothe me through the worst of it. I’ve never let anyone stay with me during the night terrors, except back when I shared a barrack with the other single miners. That wasn’t a choice; we were all in the fight together. But this—this was different. Despite my protests, she came to me, cared for me, and held me.
Rain begins splattering on the dusty road, sending little plumes of dirt up around our shoes. Heavy drops follow, and before I think too much of it, I grab Gen’s hand and we start running as the wind picks up and the rain comes crashing down.
Gen lets out a gasping laugh, and I want to bottle that sound, treasure it like some rare vintage I reach for only in my most desperate moments. Her peal of laughter cracks through the storm, and I laugh with her. I want her closer, so much closer, that I turn and lift her into my arms. She gives a giddy shout as I scoop her against my chest, her ruined gown clinging to her skin and her hair plastered in sheets of coiling silk. She wraps her legs around my waist, surrendering to my hold as I run down the lane, Huntley House looming through the deluge.
“Kieran!” she squeals, but she doesn’t fight me; instead, she leans in, her face close to mine. I stop on the stoop of Huntley House, studying the woman I already know I should have nothing to do with. But if I’ve learned anything over these past few weeks at Fairbright, it’s that I can’t stop myself when it comes to Genevieve Ashcroft. I’ve never been able to. And I still haven’t learned how to live without her.
I press her against the cold stone as she tips her head up to me and catch her lips in a searing kiss.
I am a man desperate for more of her—more kisses, more caresses in the night that chase away the worst of the terrors, and most of all, more of her tight core wrapped around my cock. I’m harder than I’ve ever been in my life, straining against her thighs as I search her mouth with my tongue. I was patient in the carriage—so fucking patient—knowing I couldn’t make love to Gen the way I wanted, the way she deserved, in that cramped space. But my patience has run dry.
“Promise me you’ll never leave me again.” Her words are a desperate plea against my wet skin, and I pull back to look at her. She still can’t believe I ever chose to leave her willingly. Haven’t I made that clear? She’s the one who pushed me away. My entire existence up until my nineteenth year had been devoted to this woman.
“I never wanted to leave you, Gen. I would have spent my entire life at your side if you’d let me.”
“I didn’t understand what losing you would mean. I never want to be apart from you again.” Her lips sear across my jawline and down my neck—hot, desperate touches to desperate words.
“We were never over. Not when you wrote me the letter that brought me here. Not when you thought I was dead. Not even when you tried to replace me with another.”
She pulls back, confusion clouding her features. “Letter?”
I let her feet slide to the stone floor, the icy rain suddenly chilling both of us. “The letter you wrote the day before I left. The one that made it clear you’d never be alone with me again. The one where you asked me to leave the palace and come here to work.”
Her face crumples as the truth hits us both. She never wrote that letter. She never rejected me.
“My mother. It was her.” Disdain hardens her voice—something I’ve never heard from Genevieve Ashcroft. “She sent you away and let me believe you were dead. She watched me mourn the loss of your love, then the loss of your life.”
She grips my forearms with her chilled, bare hands. “I’ve never stopped loving you. I’ve carried your loss in my heart every day of my life, and I’m so sorry I allowed someone to come between us. Never again.”
