He shrugged. “I like to be surrounded by beautiful things.”
His eyes stayed on me a beat too long for my comfort.
Pinned by that intense cerulean gaze, I felt heat gather beneath the folds of the evening gown and squirmed in my chair, longing to return to the relative loneliness of my room.
“Suit yourself,” I said. “As long as you understand I’ll never want to be with a man like you.”
“A man like me,” he repeated. “Is my brother really that much more attractive?”
His tone sounded a bit bruised, as if I’d hit a tender spot.
“Or did you want to be Queen of the Sixlands and all Avrandar like all the other unbonded women in the land?” he asked.
What a ludicrous question.
“Of course not. I have no interest in that. I never did. As far as attractiveness goes, you already know how?—”
I stopped myself abruptly, and Pharis’ greedy questions jumped into the gap.
“What? I already know howwhat?”
Picking up my wine glass, I took a swallow to gather my wits and my nerve. I’d almost revisited our old relationship dynamic myself.
“If you’re waiting for me to tell you how handsome and alluring you are, you’re going to be waiting a long time, Prince of Tears.”
He chuckled and took a drink from his own glass, keeping his eyes on me over the rim.
“So what is it then?” he asked. “What’s so wrong with a ‘man like me?’”
I held up a hand and started ticking off his flaws with my fingers.
“For starters, you lie and scheme and wield your power to control those weaker than yourself.”
I put up another finger. “You hold women prisoner.”
He grinned. “Just one.”
That expression was wiped off his beautiful face by my next words.
“You’re incapable of real closeness and love… so you steal someone else’s true love instead.”
Back in Havendor, Pharis had told me he’d never let anyone close before because he doubted anyone could love him if they got to really know him.
After all that had occurred since then, I’d be inclined to believe the confession was only an attempt to manipulate me with false vulnerability. But my intuitive gift—my glamour, if indeed I had one—had confirmed it.
I’d read his fear, loud and clear, and it hadn’t changed since then.
In his deepest soul, Pharis was afraid he’d always be alone, that no one would ever truly love him. And in my opinion there was good reason for that.
He’d proved himself to be a villain.
I’d chosen throw his vulnerable words back at him now because I’d known it would hurt. Apparently my poison arrow had hit its mark.
Pharis stiffened in his chair, his hands clenching into fists on the tabletop.
“Youreallythink you’re still in love with my brother,” he said.
“Of course I love him. Why wouldn’t I? Stellon is good and noble and gentle and kind.”
