The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 106: Racing Thoughts

It was difficult for Jerrick to release his grasp. Once he had let go of her hand, and he regretted it to this day. He tried to convince himself that it was the right decision, but a persistent feeling gnawed at him, telling him otherwise.

Each time he observed the mistrust reflected in her eyes, he felt a profound sense of helplessness. He had left her with no reason to trust him, solely his own fault.

His insecurities weighed heavily on him, preventing him from allowing her independence. She had no obligation to choose him; she didn’t harbor love for him, and he couldn’t offer her love in return.

Still, he wanted her. Still, he wanted to see her happiness.

He understood allowing her to be free would be beneficial for her, and yet, his selfishness and insecurity forced him to cage her. Not only that, her life might be in danger.

If he allowed her to roam free, would she ask for his help when she ran into danger, or would she face it alone? What if she failed?

He couldn’t find a way to make her rely on him. Joar was right to make her believe that she had others who cared for her. But what if she refused to see the people around her who cared for her. She tried to slash her throat right in front of his eyes. What if she tried it again, without anyone’s knowledge? What if she succeeded?

He was scared to keep his eyes off her. He realized he didn’t trust her either; he couldn’t trust her with herself.

But he needed to take a leap of faith.

"I’m here, Jessamyn, and I am always here," he said, hoping that she heard his heart.

I am right by your side. I only want the best for you. I want to take care of you.

Jessamyn gulped, looking at him. She was touched by his words. The familiar pain in her heart resurfaced, but this time it was more bearable, mingled with a cocktail of emotions. Along with the pain, she felt a longing—an ache for something she couldn’t quite identify.

As she gazed into his eyes, she began to wonder if she might be feeling his emotions. The idea seemed impossible, the notion that two people could share one set of feelings at times.

She didn’t want to delve deeper into that thought; it was too unsettling, too strange to comprehend. Even if it was, she didn’t want to share such a connection with Jerrick.

But she was a little curious about the pain if that were the case. What causes him that pain?

His words used to hurt her and lately, he had been saying kind words. Words meant nothing when actions spoke louder. She couldn’t deny the impact of his words on her, nonetheless. His actions, however, were odd.

She picked up the pouch, but Jerrick still held onto the other side. Jessamyn looked at him, wondering what more he had to say.

"I..." Jerrick wetted his lips. "Why are your husband and child not buried in the Arkhipov family grave?" he asked.

He considered it a pity that Joar was not buried with his ancestors. Joar came from a line of warrior knights revered by the kingdom, and Jerrick believed it was only right to bury him in the family burial site.

Jessamyn was bewildered by his question, which seemed to come out of nowhere. Memories from that time flooded back, sinking her heart. She was not ready to talk about it, especially not with Jerrick.

"Joar wanted to," she said, smiling weakly, not even trying to appear happy. She didn’t think she would ever be ready to discuss Joar with Jerrick.

"Why?" Jerrick pressed.

"Reasons..." Jessamyn shrugged, trying to pull the pouch from his hand.

Jerrick stared into her soul for a few seconds before finally releasing the pouch.

"I’ll get ready," he said, standing up.

Jessamyn held the pouch to her chest and took a step back, holding her breath until he walked past her. Her chest pounded.

Jessamyn got ready and didn’t forget to pin the bird brooch he gave her. Standing in front of the mirror, she couldn’t help but caress the brooch.

The first jewelry he bought... He bought it for me...

A blush formed on her cheeks, and she patted them lightly to compose herself before walking out. Jerrick emerged from the next room, looking dapper in his coat and trousers.

"Shall we?" he smiled at her.

Jessamyn felt a flicker of worry that he might dwell on their earlier conversation, but his smile put her at ease. She hooked her arm through his, walking alongside him. She didn’t recall seeing the coachman, but she wasn’t concerned. Jerrick had a knack for getting things done, an attractive quality in a man.

Just as she predicted, a carriage awaited them at the door. Jerrick held out his hand to support her, and this time, Jessamyn waited until he was seated in the carriage before taking her place beside him.

The ride was enveloped in a serene silence. Jerrick seemed lost in deep thought, his gaze distant as the world passed by outside the carriage window. Jessamyn, sitting beside him, found herself captivated by his side profile, a sight she never tired of, no matter the passage of time.

His features, strong yet refined, were like a masterful sculpture. The light filtered through the carriage window, casting gentle shadows that highlighted the contours of his face. Each detail was mesmerizing—the elegant arch of his eyebrows, each hair meticulously in place, and his long, dark lashes that curled slightly at the tips. His lashes framed eyes that held a depth she could lose herself in, even when they were turned away from her.

As she watched him, her heart swelled with a complex blend of emotions. There was an undeniable allure in the way his thoughts weaved intricate patterns behind those eyes. The very air in the carriage held a silent understanding that words could never fully capture.

Jessamyn’s gaze lingered on his lips, curved into a subtle, contemplative line. She remembered the moments those lips had spoken words of tenderness and conflict alike, each syllable leaving an indelible mark on her heart. Her breath hitched slightly, the memory of their conversations mingling with the present moment.

Maybe her gaze lingered too long, he became aware and rubbed his lips with his fingers. Her gaze lingered on his bony fingers, long and calloused like those of a seasoned warrior. Each line and mark on his hands told a story of battles fought and challenges overcome. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

His fingers were beautiful, and her thoughts skipped to a totally different place. She imagined those same hands, strong and calloused, brushing softly against her skin. The juxtaposition of their roughness with the tenderness they could convey sent a shiver down her spine. It was a fleeting daydream, but it left her heart fluttering and her cheeks warm.

But then, another thought interrupted all of her thoughts.

"Why did Imogen frequently seek treatment for female hysteria even when you weren’t deployed?" Jessamyn asked.