“I cannot.” She tried to step around him.
“You have to.” He continued to step in her way, trying to catch her eye again. He had to make sure she understood the gravity of what he was saying to her. “I saw what happened at the seamstress’s shop today.” His voice had dropped to a lower register as he could not keep his concern out of it.
She turned away from him, working her way around a pile of crates to reach the table that was her destination. “She apologized later.”
Her excuse increased the uneasy feeling in Onric’s stomach. “Does she do that often?”
“Apologize?” Ashlin had worked her way around the crates and was standing on the other side of the table. She busied herself with preparing a length of thread, still avoiding his eyes. “Yes, she does do that often.”
That was not what he was referring to. He had wanted to know if her mistress struck her often, but the girl had evaded his question. He stepped directly opposite her on the other side of the table. “So, she often does things that need to be apologized for?”
“She is...” Ashlin traced the tapestry with the end of the iron needle. “...a person who has endured much in life.”
“So have you, apparently.” He tried to keep his voice calm, but her defense of that cruel woman was getting on his nerves.
“Quiet please, my Lord. I need to feel what should be sewn next.”
She used his title again, but the way she said it did not hold the usual deference. It sounded more like a challenge for him to leave her alone. The knots of concern in his stomach had dissipated, leaving a heated tension of frustration in his chest.
“Why did she call you Stasiya?” he said, his voice rising.
She clenched her jaw but otherwise ignored him. He made his way around the table, demanding her attention.
“Has she ever struck you before?” When he was at her side, he reached out over the tapestry and gently placed his hand over hers, stopping her motion with the needle.
“No.” Her voice was short and frustrated, and she tried to pull her hand away from his touch.
He gripped his fingers to let her know he was not ready to break the contact.
She looked up at him then, meeting his eyes for the first time.
He squeezed her more firmly, repositioning their grasped hands to be between them instead of over the table. He searched her eyes, hoping she was telling the truth, but not convinced after the behavior he had seen that afternoon.
“Once before,” she whispered, the frustration now replaced by shame. “But I deserved it then.”
“That absolutely cannot be true.”
She wrenched her hand away from his, turning away. “You do not know everything about me. Apparently, you are not even sure that you know my name.” Her voice had risen again, and she moved away from the table towards the door.
“Whether your name is Ashlin or Stasiya, I do know you,” he called after her. “You are the most gentle, kindhearted, and captivating person I know, and I can imagine no scenario in which it would be acceptable to raise a hand against you.” His own voice rose in anger as he recalled what he had witnessed. “You need to leave that woman.”
“No.” She turned back around, her arms crossed, and her face held an odd mixture of hesitancy and anger.
“No?”
“You said I was free to say no to you.” She held her head high, but her neck seemed to tremble, as though it pained her to hold her ground.
He deflated. “Well, yes, you are, but...” His thoughts tumbled against each other. He wanted to make sure she was safe, to wrap his arms around her and never let go. But he sensed that if he stepped forward now, she would disappear through the doorway, possibly forever. “I am glad that you are brave enough to say no to me, but why can you not also say no to your mistress? What hold does she have over you that you refuse to leave her and come work here in safety and for better pay?”
Ashlin turned her back to him, grabbing the handle of the open door as she stepped through the doorway. “She is my mother.”
She shut the door loudly behind her.
Chapter 24
Ashlin’s eyes drooped as she stepped out into the side courtyard of the castle. Her mind felt as though it were weighted with a heavy black curtain. Perhaps she would not be so tired if she could save her energy for external tasks instead of wasting it on the emptiness in her heart.
She had returned to the tower room a short time after the prince had left and spent the rest of the night stitching until her eyes burned from the strain. The tapestry had to be ready to grace the ballroom in two days, and she needed to finish the damaged panel before then. It was a large responsibility for one person, but they only had one spelled needle. Although, she thought bitterly, the prince could have entrusted his secret to someone else who could work on it during the day.
