I’m going to claw out her eyes and rip out her hair and wrap my hands around her throat until she draws breath no more.
“Wait for me in the hallway. I’ll be there in a moment,” Senan says in the most sensuous voice.
How can I tell him who I am now? He’ll think me pathetic for going to such lengths to find him again when he clearly had no intention of ever seeking me out. I can’t bear to let him see what I’ve become.
The princess hesitates, her gaze flashing to where I stand before she presses a final kiss to my mate’s cheek and quits the room.
When she is gone, Senan turns back to me. “Your name.”
You know my name.
At least, he used to.
If I tell him my false name, he may grow suspicious. Not that I think he’ll remember Wynn since he clearly doesn’t remember me. Still, I can’t afford to take the chance.
“Leni, sire,” I say with a terrible Nimbiss accent, worried he may recognize my voice.
He scratches his stubbled chin with long, tattooed fingers, the wordLOSTspelled out across the knuckles of his right hand. “And your family’s name?”
“I have no family.” I have no one. I am well and truly alone.
Senan’s thumb skims back and forth across his lower lip as he watches me. “Are you new, Leni?”
Why do you care? Why are you here with me when you could be withher?
I nod.
His thumb stills. “Well, I appreciate you keeping my secret from the king.”
My stomach sinks when my mate turns and walks away from me—from his past—to a future I’ll never be part of.
The door opens.
The door closes.
Leaving me with nothing more than the memory of his voice and the faint scent of sage and bergamot to haunt me.
When my knees finally unlock, I grab the laundry basket and hurtle for the servants’ door, falling out of the spacious room into the tight stairwell. The tears spilling from my eyes make it damn near impossible to see the steps. My foot slips, and I trip over my too-large shoes, tumbling headfirst down, down, down, spilling linen everywhere.
When I finally come to a stop on the next landing, I lie on the cold, hard floor, cursing fate and the stars.
My body may be beaten and bruised, but nothing hurts worse than my flayed heart.
Red blooms across the white fabric of my uniform, and when I sit up, the screen on my mask flaps open, ripped to bits.
And because I have the worst luck, I run into the House Master when I finally hobble to the bottom of the staircase. When he sees the state of me, his expression darkens. “What the hell happened to you?”
“My shoes are too big, and I slipped.”
His mustache twitches as he withdraws a pencil and a small notepad from his breast pocket, flipping open. “That is one strike. Your name?”
Seriously? Did he not hear me say that my shoes are too big? “My name is Wynn,” I grit out.
He jots down my name, then returns the notepad to his pocket. “Two more strikes and you’re gone. Go to the launderette and collect another uniform.”
Where is his empathy? His compassion? Biting my tongue, I turn away before I give him a piece of my mind.
Be invisible.