Chapter 35 Chapter Thirty -five
The silence that followed was so complete I could hear the fountain in the distance. The rustle of leaves. The distant call of a bird settling in for the evening.
Asher stared at me as I'd just said something profound. Or maybe like I'd just seen something he'd thought was invisible.
"Yes," he said finally, so quietly I almost didn't hear it. "It's exactly that."
"For what it's worth," I said after a moment, "I think you're doing a good job."
He let out a sound that might have been a scoff and I frowned which didn't go unnoticed by him. "I apologize. I don't mean to offend, but you don't even know what I do."
"No," I admitted. "But Miridath speaks highly of you. And you're sitting here with me even though I've been nothing but...difficult since I woke up." I paused. "It's just... hard to accept that this is my new reality now."
"I understand. But you haven't been difficult," he said, and there was something almost defensive in his tone. "You've been... justifiably upset."
"That's a very diplomatic way of saying I've been a pain in the ass." I laughed.
That earned me another one of those low chuckles. "I wouldn't have put it quite like that."
"But you're not disagreeing."
"No," he admitted, and I could hear the smile in his voice even if I couldn't see it behind the mask. "I'm not."
We fell back into silence, but it was different now.
Asher leaned back into the bench, his posture even more relaxed than before when he arrived. I was still curious though, a lot curious. So, throwing caution to the wind, I asked the burning question in my heart.
"Why do you wear that mask?" The question slipped through my lips like a drop of water into a still pond, but the ripple effect was observed.
Asher went rigid again. Like the question had touched a wound they shouldn't have been prodded at, and I felt guilt nipping at me.
"I-"
"Enjoy your evening, Ms. Noir." He said sharply, interrupting me before I even had the chance to apologize. But that was the problem, this evasiveness was what bothered me so much. "I have work to do." He added, standing to his feet as if the bench had suddenly become too hot for him. I stood as well.
"It's just a question I asked, why are you being so defensive about it?" My hands curled into fists when he turned his back on me.
"I'm not being defensive. I just remembered I have something to do"
"Really? You suddenly remembered you had something to do when I asked about your mask?" I pushed, but the man wouldn't budge.
"Crystal." He called my name, that tenderness of before replaced with that icy coldness I got from him before. "Leave it. It's almost time for dinner, you should go get ready."
There was no room for arguments or anything. He didn't even give me the chance to come up with one when he walked out on me.
I stood there in the garden, watching his retreating form disappear through the doors, and felt something hot and sharp twist in my chest.
Anger. Frustration. Hurt.
All of it mixed together into something I didn't know how to name.
"Fine," I muttered to the empty garden. "Walk away. That's what you do best, isn't it?"
\---
My room felt smaller when I slammed the door behind me. Or maybe I just felt bigger.
I paced from the window to the bed and back again, my hands still clenched into fists at my sides.
What was his problem?
We'd been having a perfectly civil conversation. A good conversation, even. He'd been opening up, talking about his responsibilities, about the burden of being Alpha. And I'd been listening. Really listening.
And then one question—one—about the mask, and he just shut down completely. Walked away like I'd poured a bucket of cold water over his head
"It's just a mask," I said aloud to the empty room. "Just a stupid piece of leather. Why is it such a—"
I stopped myself, pressing my palms against my eyes and taking a deep breath.
"It's none of my business," I told myself.
It was his personal business and I had no right to try to take it off.
But still. He didn't have to run away. Didn't have to go cold and distant and leave me standing there like I was nothing.
I dropped onto the bed with more force than necessary, staring up at the ceiling.
A part of me didn't want to go to dinner. I didn't want to sit in that dining room and pretend everything was fine when it clearly wasn't. Didn't want to see him and have him look through me like I was invisible.
Maybe I just wouldn't go.
Maybe I'd stay here and let them wonder where I was.
A knock at the door interrupted my spiraling thoughts.
"Crystal, dear?" Miridath's voice came through the wood, gentle but firm. "May I come in?"
I considered not answering. Considered pretending I was asleep or sick or anywhere but here.
But that felt petty. And Miridath hadn't done anything to deserve my anger.
"It's open," I called out, sitting up and trying to smooth the frustration from my face.
The door opened and Miridath stepped through, carrying a bundle of fabric in her arms. Her eyes swept over me—taking in my rigid posture, I was probably radiating irritation like heat off stone—and her expression softened.
"Are you okay, Dear?"