DUALITY /#Wattys 2021

Chapter 38

Ridley turned to the smaller dishes, the place settings and the glasses. Alana hadn't run the dish cleaner in a couple of days; she could fit the small dishes in, but she'd have to wash the pots and pans by hand. Fuming, she loaded the machine and set it running, then attacked the greasy large pans with disposable wipes before filling the sink and adding soap. Ridley was always tired after training and went to bed early; no doubt Alana was tired of doing this job every night by herself.

It wasn't getting stuck with the dishes that Ridley was upset about, anyway.

Sannah cooed behind her. Ridley turned to see the King walk over to the high chair and lean over to greet her. "Are you watching Mommy do dishes? You're such a good girl. You're so quiet. You're as good as my little girl used to be."

Ridley turned, a greasy pan in her soapy hands. A wary, appraising look came over Chi's face as his eyes met hers; then his brows lowered. He straightened and she saw him draw breath.

Squaring his shoulders to face me, she thought. I really did screw up this afternoon.

Chi joined her at the sink. "Here, let me help you with that," he said, and reached out and took the pan from her.

She looked up at him as he grabbed a scouring pad and scrubbed in silence for a moment. Then he looked over at her and said, "I want to apologize for some of the things I said to you this afternoon. It wasn't—none of that was your business, or your problem. I think ..." He paused. "When we reach Washington, there are professionals whose business it is to help with these kinds of issues, and it's not like I can't afford one." His gaze drifted from Ridley to the pot as he spoke. He kept scrubbing at the same spot, round and round. "From now on, my problems will be in the hands of myself and a competent professional. Please don't worry about any of that anymore."

Okay. Ridley sensed she was supposed to say that, it was just that the word sounded awkward. After all we said this afternoon? Then she realized that any public figure would be afraid she would speak to the press.

"Chi—Your Highness, I would never speak to anyone about—about any of that. You can count on that." She fumbled under the suds for a baking dish as she spoke. When his gaze met hers, the glass slipped from her hands and clunked against the sink bottom, with a sway of water and suds that wet Chi's sleeves. "I'm sorry," she said. Now that the words were out of her mouth, she continued, with a shift in meaning. "Sorry for anything I said that may have embarrassed you, or upset you."

Chi glanced down at her and turned the pot in his hands. It showed her a curved reflection of the door, and her mother standing there peering around the corner again.

Consternation flared, but Ridley didn't want to turn around and alert Chi that they were being observed. She said a silent prayer of thanks for the monotonous hum of the dish cleaner.

"No," Chi said, with a furrow of his brow and an emphatic shake of his head that made her think the word was genuine. "No, it isn't that. It's just that—I'm the one who should be embarrassed, if anyone. None of that should ever have been your concern."

"But, Chi." Ridley heard her voice spring up in protest, and struggled to suppress it, mindful of the ears at the door. "Who—"

She finally had to turn around and look. Her mother was gone, and just in time. Chi turned and glanced over his shoulder, too.

"You must have been going crazy living here all alone, thinking about all that!" Ridley kept her tone soft. "For years, in fact. You needed to tell someone that, and you should have. Really."

Chi slid his gaze away from her, down into the sudsy water, and then to the pot he held. Ridley glanced at it to check whether her mother was peeking any more, but he lifted it at the wrong angle. "And I will," he said. "To a professional. In Washington. As I should have, to begin with."

"But, Chi—" The grim line of his mouth, the determined set of his jaw, and the pain in his eyes warded Ridley away. She watched in horror as her hand shot out of its own volition, gripping his forearm. "I feel privileged that you told me."

He looked into her eyes then. Really looked into her eyes, for the first time since the sled house, and there was no denying the light she saw there.

"I felt honored that you trusted me. That will always mean a lot to me," she said, holding the contact.

Chi stood still as a statue. Not a muscle in his face moved, yet the light in his eyes shifted. First, she'd seen desire. Now, trust.

Boldness lit a flame in Ridley's heart. As if she knew she could say it—and get away with it.

"And you always can trust me," she said. She wanted to memorize the blue in those eyes. "I meant everything I said."

For a split second, she felt a current pass between them, jumping from her skin to his and back again, electrified by the water.

And then Chi pulled his arm from her grip, turned on his heel, and was gone.

That was bad. She had overstepped. 

Ridley visualized the other night, in his room, and the tears in his eyes as he'd spoken about the Queen. How hurt he was that she hadn't come to him for help before accepting Devane's conditions.

Married people who would never even dream of betraying their spouse got offended if anyone else approached them, which Ridley had just done, twice, and pretty blatantly, too. She had overstepped her bounds with the King, and he had to be put off. This could ruin the whole mission, even.

Not only that, but—Chi must never be angry with her, or offended at something she'd done.

But if he was—how to explain that light in his eyes?

Her heart pounding, her hands shaking, Ridley bent to the dishes and finished them as fast as she could. She dried her hands, then walked over and slid the tray back, unbuckled Sannah, and lifted her from her high chair. Alana would be in their room, packing.

Her mother wasn't packing. She sat cross-legged on their bed as Ridley carried Sannah into the bedroom, her astrology books and papers scattered around her. Ridley had never been so happy to see the round spoked-wheel diagrams, covered with their unintelligible numbers, symbols, and stairstep grids.

Ridley closed the door and lowered Sannah into her crib. Then she turned to face her mother.

"Tell me about the charts you drew. Tell me what you saw," she said.