I glance up at Franco, who continues to watch me with unsettling curiosity. Or is it suspicion? I swallow hard. “Shall we go?”
“With pleasure,” he says and offers me his arm. Gritting my teeth, I secure my hand in the crook of his elbow. My pulse quickens as my hand makes contact with the smooth silk of his shirt. Not because it excites me to touch the prince. That most certainly couldnotbe it.
It’s been so long since I’ve been this close to a male, that’s all it is.
My awareness of our irritating nearness only grows the longer we walk, but I try to shift my focus to the figures we pass. The halls appear mostly empty, which I’m grateful for. Still, I can’t shake the fear that we’ll cross paths with Mrs. Coleman or Brother Marus.
“I thought we could benefit from getting to know one another on a personal level,” the prince says. There’s a hint of hesitation in his tone as he continues. “You know, before we make our courtship known. Are you still…willing? Do you still want to be here and…court one another?”
“Of course,” I say quickly. Perhaps too quickly. “Where are we going anyway, Your Highness? You said you were taking me on an outing.”
“First of all, enough withYour Highness. If we are to court and spend significant time together, you shall call me Franco.”
Significant time together.Oh, what have I gotten myself into? My heart beats faster. Can he hear it? I swallow hard. “Very well.”
“Is there anything you would like me to call you?”
“Me?” I meet his eyes for the briefest moment, unsettled by the question despite my best efforts to hide it. “You know my name, Your High—Franco.” The last word feels dangerous on my tongue. Forbidden.
“All right then, Maisie.”
Hearing the name only unsettles me further. I was not prepared for how guilty I’d feel being directly referred to asMaisie. At least being calledYour Highnessmakes it feel more like a childish game of pretend rather than deception.
Franco stops and faces me, brow furrowed. “You don’t like that, do you?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, pulse quickening as I release his arm and take a step away from him.
He watches me for a few silent moments. When he speaks, his voice holds an unexpected softness. “I don’t mean to use my power on you, Princess. I just naturally do. And when I said your name, I sensed you didn’t like it. I’m sorry if that was too forward of me. We don’t need to be on a first name basis if you’re uncomfortable with it.”
I’m taken aback by his sudden sincerity. It’s nothing like the arrogance he revealed in the alley or the bored disdain he displayed upon his throne at the ball. More surprising than that, though, is what he said about his power. He can sense my emotions. That means what Maisie said about him is true; he’s a powerful psy vampire. I need to be really,reallycareful around him. And so far, I’m off to a terrible start.
“It’s not that,” I say slowly, gathering my composure as I weave a new lie. “I just…I miss my family. Hearing you use my name like that…makes me think of my…siblings and how much I miss them.”
He tilts his head, and I get the impression he’s reading me, dissecting my lie. For a moment, I fear I may have said something wrong. Maisie has siblings, doesn’t she? Didn’t she mention stealing menswear from her brothers? Before I can panic, he flashes me a grin. “How about I call you something else? Something meant just for me.”
Relief settles my nerves, and I force a smile. “All right.”
He offers me his arm again, and we return to walking. He taps his free hand to his chin. “What about…May? Zee? Zizi? Em?”
“Em?” I echo, my hand automatically coming to rest over the lump that is my hidden locket. No one has called me Em since my father was alive.
Franco nods. “The first letter of your name.M.”
A comforting warmth spreads through me.M. The first letter of Maisie’s name. OrEm. Short for Ember. A piece of my true self to keep while I wear another’s face. If it will make my bargain with Maisie even the slightest bit easier to bear, then I’ll take it. “I like that. Em. Let’s make a name of it.”
“As you wish,Em,” he says, exaggerating the name as he playfully bumps his shoulder into mine.
I can’t help the way my lips flick up at the corners.Stupid, foolish lips. Don’t fall for his charms.So what if he showed me a moment of empathy? It’s only because he can read my breezing feelings. Besides, he’s still the same vile prince who asked if I planned to have a tryst with him against an alley wall.
The thought helps sober me, and I force my expression back to neutral.
We make our way down a staircase that lets out into a hall I recognize—the grand hall near the ballroom. With the hazy daylight coming in through the windows and the quiet emptiness around us, it’s hard to imagine it’s the same place I was last night.
Last night.
For something that started out feeling so magical, it ended so horribly. My stomach turns at the memories. Then, reminding myself that the prince is likely reading my feelings at this very moment, I make myself focus on the better parts of the ball. The dancing. The music. My brief encounter with the fat raven. That sends a wave of comfort through me and even sparks a pang of longing. I know there’s no sense dwelling on a stranger. He could have been anyone. A servant or an aristocrat. A human or a fae. Ugly or handsome. It wouldn’t matter, of course, for I enjoyed our conversation either way. And his voice…I can’t remember its sound, only that it was youthful. Warm.
It’s a futile treasure, but maybe one worth keeping—the last delightful moment I had while wearing my own face.
