Here I was, hiding away like a little girl as I let Bennett handle both our duties. I tugged the jeweled comb out of my hair and threw it across the room. It clattered to the floor and slid to a stop.
Faint footsteps echoed outside. I tensed when the door creaked open, widening the blade of light and framing a familiar silhouette.
“Cissa? Are you in here?”
I sniffed and dabbed my face.
Bennett rounded the corner and stopped in front of me, his brow furrowed. He was no longer smiling. I could only imagine what he was thinking. He expected a princess, but all he saw was a girl with a tear-stained face.
“You came,” he said.
“It’s the Ambassadors Ball, isn’t it?”
Bennett knelt next to me, sweeping away my pool of skirts. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
I turned away, hugging my knees. “Nothing is wrong. I-I’ll be ready to go back in a minute,” I said.
“Cissa.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are not. You didn’t want to be announced, and then you left after you spoke to Sir Oliver. Was it something he said?”
Curse him for being so observant. “How would you know?” I said bitterly. “Weren’t you dancing with Lady Kelsey?”
I was not proud of those words, but the petty, jealous part of me didn’t care. Let Lady Kelsey enjoy his smiles. It was not as if I deserved them.
Bennett dragged a hand over his face. “Cissa. I wish you would be honest with me.”
“I am. I’m—”
“Donotsay you are fine.”
Bennett never lost his patience, but there was an edge to his voice now that terrified me. Had I finally disappointed him?
He raised his hand. I flinched.
Bennett’s face drained of color. He sat back. “Cissa,” he said hoarsely. “Did you think I was going to...?”
His unsaid words pressed down upon us, stealing the breath from my lungs.
Slowly, Bennett lifted his hand again. With aching gentleness, he smoothed my hair away from my face and gathered me into a hug.
The tears I had been holding back finally fell. I sobbed into his shoulder.
“I’m sorry. Tell me what’s wrong, darling,” Bennett murmured, rubbing my back in comforting circles.
Guilt clawed at my throat as I clung to him.
What had I been thinking? Bennett was not Mother. He was safe. He had been nothing but sweet and gentle and everything good, but I had let him assume her role in my mind. Someone to please. Someone to obey and feel lesser than.
Someone to fear.
“I c-can’t,” I hiccupped.
“Try,” he said.
I took a shuddering breath.
