My muscles tense, poised against attack. “Why?”
“I’m going to ask you a series of questions and you’re going to sit next to me and answer them. I want you as close as possible so I can sense every flicker of deception you try to conceal.”
“What will you do to me?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On a lot,” he says, tone sharp. “Look, you don’t have much to barter with. I know you aren’t the same person I met twice before, and you’ve all but confessed you aren’t the princess. I also know you must be at least part human to lie so well. Now. Come. Here.”
With my fingers curled into fists, I rise from my bench and take a step toward him. All at once, the coach hitches. I stumble forward, arms outreached to catch my fall. Just as I’m about to tumble to my knees, a pair of hands grip my shoulders. The coach lurches again, tipping me to the side….and planting me straight onto the prince’s lap. Our eyes meet and his widen with alarm, followed by a flash of disgust.
“Get off me!” he shouts at the same time I push off from his chest.
Scrambling to the far end of the bench, I burn him with a glare. “What is the meaning of this?”
His cheeks redden. “You think that wasmydoing? I don’t even know who you are. Why would I want you in my lap?”
“I doubt that’s the first time you’ve had a stranger in your lap,” I bite back. If he were anyone else, I’d regret such a response. In this case, I’m prepared to spew any barbed insult I can find. What’s the use of holding back now when my own execution is likely just around the corner?
The thought makes me dizzy, and I drum my fingers against my thighs to calm my pulse.
Franco straightens his shirt collar, my fall having set it askew. Then, pinning me with his furious gaze, he says, “Where is the real Princess Maisie?”
I lift my chin. “I have no idea.”
“Tell me.”
“I. Don’t. Know. Read my energy. Am I lying?”
He’s silent for a moment, eyes searching my face. “Did you harm her or coerce her in any way?”
“Of course not.”
“Does she know you’re impersonating her?”
I go over the terms of my bargain with the princess, making sure my answer doesn’t contradict what I agreed to keep secret. While I am unable to state that she ran away, it still leaves enough room to tell a portion of the truth. “She knows.”
“Is she still at Selene Palace?”
“No.”
“Did she leave of her own free will?”
“Yes.”
A flash of hurt tightens his expression. “Did she ask you to take her place?”
“Yes.”
He quickly averts his gaze, eyes going unfocused. With a bitter laugh, he runs a hand over his face. “Was I truly so repugnant?” he mutters. I don’t answer, knowing the question was meant to be rhetorical. When he returns his eyes to mine, something like pain or amusement dances in them. “Who are you to her? Why did she trust you with such a grand deception? And why the deception to begin with?”
I open my mouth to answer but am saved from speaking when the carriage lurches again. This time, it turns sharply to the side, sending me sliding down the bench toward the prince. His arms encircle me, but I can’t tell if he means to protect me or shove me away. Probably the latter. Before I can find out, the coach comes to a sudden halt that sends us both careening to the floor.
Franco lands on his backside, his shoulders pinned against the bottom of the opposite seat, while I’m sent sprawling over his chest. His arms remain around my back, and when I lift my face, I find his is an inch away from my own. Jasmine and the distinct aroma of a cool night breeze fills my senses. With a jolt, I break from his grasp and roll off of him, my cheeks blazing like a wildfire.
He recoils. “What are you trying to do, impostor?”
