“I don’t know how to do this,” I repeat. “How to step back into my life as though nothing has changed.”
He pushes himself up onto one elbow despite his earlier dramatics.
“I don’t know how to stay away from you,” he says, and there is no humor left in it now.
That is worse than any teasing.
“It will be fine,” I say, though I do not fully believe it. “As long as Charles is away. When he is gone, the air feels…lighter.”
“And when he is near?” Malric asks quietly.
I hesitate. “When he is near,” I say carefully, “things are more complicated.”
His gaze sharpens, but he does not interrupt.
“I am free to take lovers,” I add. “It was agreed before we married. Political marriages require a certain…flexibility.”
“And yet,” he says, “you did not.”
“Only once.” I fold my hands together. “Years ago. A few weeks in spring. It ended before it could become anything of consequence.”
“Why?” he asks.
The question is gentle. I go still, staring at the stone floor between us. How much should I give him? He waits patiently.
“At first, it hurt,” I admit. “Charles took concubines almost immediately. I was young. I believed marriage meant devotion, I believed in love.”
The words feel foolish now.
“I had to learn quickly that it would never be a love match. It was alliances, territories, legacies.” I draw in a slow breath. “For a long time, I did not want anyone else. Even if I was permitted to. It felt…pointless.”
Ashfordremains silent.
“Then things changed.”
“How?” he asks.
“He grew more intense.” I choose the word carefully. “More watchful. His temper shortened. He would say he did not mind if I sought companionship elsewhere, but there was always something in his eyes when I mentioned it.”
“What something?”
“Possession,” I say softly.
Ashford’s jaw tightens.
“I stopped feeling safe inviting anyone into my rooms,” I continue. “Not because he forbade it. He never did. But because I could feel his anger simmering beneath the surface.”
“And so?” Ashford’s voice has gone very still.
“I found a way to calm him.”
He leans back slowly, eyes lifting to the arched ceiling above us.
“I made a deal,” he says after a moment, voice measured, “to tell you the truth when I could.”
My pulse quickens. “Yes?”
“I know about the ring.”
