What monster have I created?
“Princess, I do apologize. Please tell us what the agenda meant when it said ‘health conditions’.” Johnn’s smile could melt hearts.
Sweeter hearts. More innocent hearts—I pause my thoughts, and when I glance back at Pen, she’s blushing.
Ah, there’s the sweet innocent heart.
Johnn doesn’t peer back at my cousin at all, though. He’s too focused.
Which is good. That’s his job, after all.
“What I am about to say does not leave this room, gentlemen.” I pass my gaze over one man and then the next. They all nod. Aside from Timmons, but fuck a duck, this is sink-or-swim, and if I have to drown one fucking dawdling duck, so be it. “My father’s memory isn’t what it used to be.”
Waltry’s throat works as he swallows hard. His eyes now wider with the information he clearly suspected just days ago.
“We’re all a bit forgetful in our old age. It isn’t something to clutter up meetings over,” Timmons groans.
“Sir, please let her finish,” Johnn says.
“Finish what?” Timmon’s voice booms through the long room. “Finish wasting my time? Wasting this kingdom’s time? In all my years—”
“Her father’s mother has a history of Degenerative Remembrance, Timmons!” Waltry yells. His jaw clamps shut before he spews more than just information at the man seated next to him.
“Memory fleet,” Timmons says on a wavering whisper.
My gaze flits down to the glossy tabletop, and my big silver eyes stare back at me as I hang my head low.
“Aries,” Johnn whispers, his palm held just slightly over mine. “I’m sorry if Sir Timmons upset you, Princess. He won’t say another word.”
My lashes flutter up just in time to spot Johnn cocking a brow at the man across from him in the sternest brow cocking I’ve ever seen.
Tension slips into the room.
“I—I apologize, Princess. I did not know,” Timmons apologizes on a quiet but steady tone.
“He’s sick,” I say on my smallest voice, my lip wobbling dramatically. “I just want to protect him. I want to take care of him while he still remembers me.” I blink away the sudden wetness in my eyes, and it’s odd how hard it hits home for me.
Not for my father.
But for Hyval. No one took care of her. She tried to take care of herself. She tried so hard to keep her life together when no one was there to help her.
She and I are alike.
Except I have men who love me.
And they’ll never understand how much they mean to me.
I swallow hard, and it’s then that I realize how much of a twist my dramatic acting has shifted into real-life emotions.
Fuck.
“The King wanted to bring the kingdom together for a memorial for his son. He wanted a speech to be given,” Pen says, and I swivel in my chair to look at her.
That was not on the fucking script, Pen!
She ignores my wide-eyed stare, though.
Another party? For the brother I killed?
