“Come, you’ve already insulted my abilities as prince and managed to keep your head.” His tone is full of taunting. “I expect you to continue with the same brutal honesty.”
Finally, I meet his eyes. “Why?”
His expression shifts, brow furrowing for a shadow of a moment. Then he shrugs, turning casually away from me. “Because it’s rare that I hear it.” Despite his obvious efforts to feign indifference, there’s candor in his tone. Vulnerability.
Could he…respectthe completely awful way I’ve spoken to him? If only he knew I’m the same girl he insulted in the alley.
“Come out with it,” he says, shaking me from my thoughts. He waggles his brows, lips pulled into a sideways grin, although his eyes maintain a hint of gravity. “What terrible misdeed of mine has so greatly discolored your opinion of me?”
I suppress the urge to tap my fingers against my thighs and fold my hands at my waist instead. If he wants brutal honesty, I suppose I can provide a portion of it. I lift my chin. “I attended last night’s ball.”
He tilts his head back. “And that’s supposed to mean something?”
My words come out slow, careful. “I saw you on the dais.”
He grins, rising from the bed and sauntering a few steps closer to me. “Oh? Looking handsome and benevolent, I presume?”
I take a step back, my ire sparking. “More like arrogant, smug, and brooding—”
His mouth falls open. “Brooding?Brooding?”
“Yes, brooding. And being rude and dismissive with your guests. For someone who seems to care much about what others think of him, you do nothing to engender a warm opinion. And yet, nearly everyone has endless patience with what sparse attention you give. I must admit, I don’t quite understand you or your countless admirers.”
He opens his mouth only to snap it shut. For a moment, I fear I’ve said too much, that my words were too cutting. Despite his request for honesty, I must remember he’s a prince and is used to being coddled. I’m about to take it all back and beg his forgiveness when he speaks. “That’s what you thought of me at the ball? Upon the dais? You thought I was being rude and dismissive?”
I’m surprised to find his tone is again without condemnation, only open curiosity. It gives me the courage to answer with the truth. “Yes.”
His eyes unfocus for a moment. When they return to mine, his expression looks nothing like the prince I saw on the throne, nor does it hold the arrogance of the man I met in the alley. “Believe me when I say that was not my intention. More accurately, I hadn’t realized that would be the repercussion. It was supposed to be a joke. A riddle. It wasn’t…me.”
I frown. What was supposed to be a riddle? Shaking my head, I say, “Prince Franco, I find I still don’t understand you.”
He watches me a few silent moments, and I think he might elaborate, perhaps reveal yet another layer of the vulnerability I’m starting to glimpse. Then, in a flash, his expression shifts into one that’s become far more familiar, full of smug joviality. His words come out light and teasing. “Then understand this. I do not brood. I am funny and clever and charming. Charming people do not brood.”
The evasive change of subject sends an unexpected pang of disappointment through me, but I take the opportunity to escape our serious conversation. Evoking the same teasing quality, I say, “Charming? You?”
“Oh, yes, I’m quite charming. Everyone says so.”
I dip into a mocking curtsy. “My mistake, Prince Charming.”
“Don’t ever call me that. Or if you do, don’t say it with such sarcasm. Say it like it’s a fact, for it is.”
“I’ve never known anyone who had to tell others how funny and clever he is. Usually, it’s a lot more obvious. You know, from their personalities.”
“Do you take pleasure in insulting me?”
“I must take some pleasure from your company if I’ll be forced to endure your presence for the foreseeable future.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to swallow them back down. He’s right, I do take pleasure from insulting him, and I find myself unable to resist every chance I get. But I must stop. He isn’t a friend or a lover but a roguish prince and cold ally. He has the power to destroy me in every way, should he choose to. He may be teasing now, but I’ve seen that dark power of his. “Forgive me if I’ve overstepped,” I say, bowing my head.
“You have overstepped,” he says, words low enough to send a chill to my core. But when I lift my eyes to his, I find laughter written over his face. “You’ve all but put me out of a job, for it is normally my duty to insult me. Nevertheless, I suppose that means we shall get alongswimmingly.”
I offer him a small smile.
“Swimmingly,” he repeats, and I quirk a brow. With one hand on his hip, he flourishes the other. “Because you’re from the Sea Court. At least, I assume you are, if you’re truly the princess’ maid.” I keep my expression flat to avoid reacting to his latter statement. Luckily, he seems to take it as my response to his horrendous joke. He shakes a finger at me. “I’ll make you laugh, eventually. Truly and wholeheartedly, and not just at my expense. Now, take my arm, you cold-hearted impostor. The opera awaits.”
25
EMBER
With a deep breath, I take Franco’s arm and allow him to lead me out of my room. We enter the hall, which is thankfully somewhat empty. But as we make our way deeper into the palace, I see the halls have grown busier since this morning when we left on our outing. Servants pass. And pause. Dozens of eyes lock on us, trailing our progress down the hall. The significance of this moment strikes me. It’s our first public appearance as a courting couple. The realization sends a wave of dizziness to my head. What if I can’t do it? What if I say the wrong thing? What if—
