I nearly choke on the caramel-colored liquid, the question is so unexpected, her tone so cold and detached. “I’m sorry?”
“You’ve told me about your sister, even a little bit about your mother, but I haven’t heard you mention your father much. What is life like under Scotan rule, from a royal’s perspective? What is he like as a father, and a ruler?” She arches her eyebrow like the question is playful, though we both know it’s anything but. I know the shifts that have taken place in my mind over the past several hours; maybe her thoughts have shifted as well.
“Have you been to many of the other provinces, my lady?”
She sits back in her chair, leaving space between us. “I have been everywhere, though never for more than a couple of days. When I venture to other provinces, it is usually to drop off supplies and money for the Gifted children. But I spend most of my time here in Stratford City.”
I nod, not surprised. Most people don’t travel between the provinces of Avon. One of the main reasons why it took so long for arevolution to succeed. One of the main reasons why Gifted are killed in some provinces but not in others. “I know you will think me biased, and I realize you faced some special circumstances, but life in Scota is not like what you may have seen in the other provinces.”
“All provinces have their areas of peace and prosperity.” She eyes me over the rim of her glass, as if she can discern my honesty with a simple gaze. “Special circumstances aside.”
“True. And Scota certainly has some citizens who are wealthier than others. The difference is that those wealthy citizens take care of the poor.”
“Take care of them? What does that mean to you? They provide them with a hot meal every once in a while? Toss a gold coin out the window of their fancy carriages?” Hostility laces through her voice, and I can’t even blame her. After the things I witnessed today, the things she told me about, I would understand if Lady Caterine detested me. But I don’t think hate is behind her line of questioning.
“No, my lady. The wealthy pay a hefty tax, and those funds are used to make sure all people of Scota are housed, fed, and provided medical care when needed.”
She stares at me for a long second, a war waging in the depths of her amber eyes. “All people but the Gifted, you mean.”
I turn my attention to the remaining liquor in my glass so I don’t shrink under her honey gaze. “I will not pretend everything is perfect in Scota. Clearly we still have work to do. But I will stand by the fact that we approach the issues with the best of intentions.”
“And yet plenty of Scotans were members of the Uprising, plenty of them support this new government.”
“Did you talk with many of them?”
“Did you?” she challenges.
I study her for a moment, wondering if something greaterhappened while we were apart. Lady Caterine has always been sharp, but she has never before seemed angry. Is this simply lingering resentment from the cruelty she faced as a child, or is it a sign of something more? “I did. As a leader of Scota, I found it important for me to know why some of my people would want to fight for an organization set on disrupting life as we know it.”
She sips her drink, her eyes still narrowed on me. “And what did they say?”
“That they wished for all people of Avon to have the freedoms and basic necessities we in Scota believe in.”
She scoffs. “Do you disagree with them, with the Uprising and your citizens who joined it?”
I put down my drink and reach across the table, taking one of her hands in mine. The simple touch soothes my racing mind, steadies my pounding heart. “I don’t. The Uprising has taken more from me than you might understand, Lady Caterine.” I choke back the emotions rising in my throat as I think about what I still stand to lose. “But that doesn’t mean I disagree with their most basic of principles. I hope for a future of peace and unity.”
“And continued restrictions against the Gifted.”
“I am beginning to rethink my position.” I squeeze her fingers before pulling away. “Why are you set on thinking the worst of me, my lady?”
She throws back the rest of her whisky. “I’m not sure. Might make things easier, I suppose.”
I don’t ask for clarification, because I think I know all too well what she means.
She pushes back from the table with a sigh. “You didn’t come here to talk. Let’s get to tonight’s lesson, shall we?”
I stay seated. “I enjoy talking with you, Lady Caterine. And if you prefer, we do not have to partake in a lesson tonight.”
She bristles. “I plan on fulfilling my end of our deal.”
“Your feelings are more important than any deal, my lady.”
“Some of us do not have the luxury of feelings, Your Highness.” She spits out my former title like it’s sour.
I stand, crossing to her so only a few inches of space remain between us, my heart aching for the sadness—no, the indifference—of her sentiment. I cup her cheek in my hand, letting my thumb stroke her soft skin. Her lips part as I reach for her hip, tugging her closer. She might talk a good game, but we both know there are feelings here, lodged in this silent space between us. But if staying focused on the physical is what she needs, I’m happy to oblige. “What do you plan to teach me tonight, my lady?”
Her chest flutters, her breasts straining at the bounds of the lace encasing them. There’s a quiet moment before she answers me. “Not so much a lesson tonight, as a test.” She unties her robe, letting the silky fabric drop to the floor. “Earlier you watched me find pleasure at my own touch. Let’s see how closely you were paying attention.”
