He froze as it skittered along the stone, into the shadows.
“I don’t want your metal, useless heart,” I whispered. “Don’t keep doing this to me.”
Filling me with false hope and promises. Reminding me why I can’t hate you.
A month of silence. Of trying to hate him and failing.
And then this?
His blue eyes softened for a fraction of a second. Then one by one he peeled my fingers off his biceps. Without so much as another glance in my direction, Grayson walked out of the servants’ quarters.
The golden locket glimmered in the shadows.
It didn’t feel like an apology or moving forward. It felt like an ending.
Fifty-Four
STORY
* * *
All of Crowne Hall in preparation. It was early September, which meant the holidays and dreaded mass migration of Crownes were not yet upon us. I assumed they were readying for the great Crowne Labor Day party, but that was usually on the weekend, and today was a weekday.
I was walking back to Lottie from visiting Uncle, and I caught sight of Ellie. She carried a tray of fresh fish to bring to the cooks, so I grabbed her.
“Is there something going on today?”
She looked at the floor. Still no one looked me in the eyes, but I wasn’t his mistress. I was just her girl. Just a few more months—maybe even less—I had to put up with this, and then I could leave, I thought morbidly. Dismally.
“Never mind,” I uttered, letting her go.
She scurried away.
When I got back to Lottie, the sound of glass breaking met me.
“Ms. du Lac?”
A vase broke against the wall, narrowly missing my head. I froze as Lottie screamed and grabbed a porcelain lamp, chucking it at another wall. I’d never seen Lottie like this—she was always so demure. She reached for something else, a crystal votive, and I ran to her, grabbing her arm before she could chuck it.
Heavy breaths wracked her body, tension in every viscera.
“What’s going on?” I hedged.
She jerked her head to the side, furious gaze colliding with mine. Then she shoved me off.
“Why don’t you leave?” she yelled. “You think you’re the only one who knows the unseen sides of him? I was the one who held him when his dad died. It used to only be me. Why are you still here? Are you hoping to seduce him back to you?”
I blinked, stunned.
“N-No! My uncle is here. He’s…dying.”
Her face collapsed. “That’s why you visit him so much.”
Tension drained from her limbs, and in its place sadness filled, sluggish, defeated.
“Why not anywhere else? The kitchens? Work as a maid? Why does it have to be me?”
When you’re out, you’re out. The servants have excommunicated me. I can’t work in the kitchens. I can’t even work cleaning the bathrooms. I mean, if Grayson still cared, maybe he could try to force them…but their revenge would make sure I never saw my uncle.