“So, you were watching.” Zachariah narrowed his eyes as he swept into the room. Beezle leapt from the chair and scampered under the bed, likely reading the resentment radiating from the new arrival. “Andof courseI can handle myself. I just didn’t expect tohaveto.” He swept an arm in my direction. “I see how it is. You leave me behind for the first pretty face that comes along.”
I beamed, replacing the music box onto the desk, earning a squawk of abrupt, tinny notes. “You think I’m pretty?”
“You know you’re pretty,” Zachariah said, pointing at me accusingly.
I shrugged. He had a point.
Maxwell scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, Zachariah. If it makes you feel any better, we haven’t found anything noteworthy.”
“That’s because you left your most observant friend behind.”
“Okay.” I held up a hand in surrender. “Forgive us insufferable fools for leaving you behind.”
Zachariah sniffed, taking the seat Beezle had vacated. “Very well. But I refuse to lift a finger to help.”
I rolled my eyes for Maxwell’s benefit, then frowned, turning to Zachariah. “Why are you even here? You’re not competing for Ambrose’s hand.”
Zachariah straightened. “No, but I’m participating in the games. To offer moral support.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re spying for the family, aren’t you? Their eyes and ears when they can’t be around.”
Maxwell winced. “Well, someone has to look out for the family. We need to be able to identify anybody who’s here with less-than-noble intentions.”
Zachariah nodded. “People only after the title, or the money.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How’s that any different from Ambrose looking for a pretty face who can say and do the right things, like some glorified prop?”
“For one, he has everything he needs. Everyone else wants to weasel their way into a life of luxury.”
I crossed my arms. It seemed the same to me. Ambrose just had more choices.
“It’s a good thing that Zachariah is in the games,” Maxwell said. “As such, he has a token.”
“Does he now?” I sent him a look of interest.
Maxwell nodded, turning expectantly to Zachariah. “Zachariah?”
“Hmmm?” the boy played innocent. “Oh? My token? I haven’t decided who should have it yet. I definitely want it to go toward the suitor most likely to make Ambrose happy.”
“He wants the prettiest,” I said flatly. “That’s me.”
Maxwell chuckled, then shook his head.
“You know,” Zachariah said, pulling his token from his pocket and lifting it up to the light from the window. “I actually think you would get along swimmingly with Ambrose. You sound just like him.”
I bristled at the comparison. Ambrose was nothing like me. He was a spoiled, arrogant, selfish brat who clearly thought of no one but himself. I froze, then frowned. No … I wasn’t like that. Was I?
“They are nothing alike,” Maxwell said, noting the distress on my face.
“Thank you,” I murmured, although I could make out the skepticism on Zachariah’s face as we resumed our search.
Finding nothing out of the ordinary after a time, I settled onto Emmett’s bed, trying to imagine a scenario where Emmett would disappear without leaving a note for his family, but would reach out to an acquaintance for a favor. “Has your brother gotten into trouble with anyone lately? Is he into gambling?”
Maxwell glanced back over his shoulder from the box he was rummaging through. “No. My brother’s vice is … he can’t settle down with any one man.”
Zachariah snorted at the delicate phrasing.
“Were some of these men already partnered?”
