He shrugs. “You have a right to your secrets. You may decline to answer any of my questions. All I ask is that when you do answer, you tell me no direct lie. I’ll even let you go first. How does that sound?”
I drum my fingers against my bench a few more times. “I don’t have to answer the questions I don’t want to?”
He nods.
I swallow hard. “All right.”
Another smile breaks over his face. “Very well then. The first question is yours.”
31
EMBER
Franco returns to lightly moving his wings and propelling us over the lake’s surface. It takes me a while to decide on my first question. Then it comes to me.
I form each word with care to ensure I give nothing important away. “You told me your ambassador acted in your stead during the New Moon Masquerade. Have you ever had him act in your place outside of that instance? Has he been glamoured as you on any other occasion?”
His answer comes easily. “No.”
My heart sinks a little. That means Franco truly was the arrogant ass I met in the alley.
“My turn,” he says. “Were you wearing a glamour the night of the ball?”
I pause to consider my answer. Or if I even want to answer at all. He said I could refuse any question I want, but I find myself wanting to tell the truth. It stands to reason that the more honesty I give him, the more he’ll give me. Although, that doesn’t mean I have to give him the whole truth. “I wore a mask and ballgown that night.” Before he can comment, I pose my next question. “Why did we flee the theater in such a hurry after the opera?”
He sighs and looks out at the water. His answer seems to pain him. “I meant what I said when I told you I don’t like crowds. There are many reasons for that. For one, being a psy vampire means I can get overwhelmed by others’ emotions, especially those belonging to strangers. I have a difficult time tuning them out or shielding myself against them. It makes me feel…defenseless. For another, well, I tend to feel awkward around people I don’t know well. Maybe even shy.”
His answer surprises me. Even though he agreed not to evade or deceive, I didn’t expect him to express such vulnerability.
“My turn again,” he says. “Why were you upset when Brother Marus came to our opera box?”
My fingers curl around the edge of my seat, and my blood seems to freeze in my veins.
He must sense my shift in energy. “I don’t like him either, Em. If I could do away with him, I would. I just want to know why you have a particular dislike for the man.”
I take a few deep breaths to steady my nerves. Again, I could refuse to answer. But that would be far more suspicious than the truth. “My mother died in the rebellion,” I whisper.
His expression falls. “I’m so sorry, Em.”
Part of me wants to tell him more, but I stop myself from elaborating. My brief answer explains more than enough. Besides, it’s my turn again. “Why do you want me to pretend to court you? When I asked if you wanted to improve your reputation, you gave some vague answer about how it was only partially true but not for the reasons I think. What’s the real reason?”
His wings brush the air. Once. Twice. Our boat glides a little faster. “I need to show the people I’m trying to be the heir they need and gain the respect of both the humans and the fae. To do that, I need to prove I am capable of a serious courtship. Which, in turn, means I’ll make a good king who can produce a proper heir.” He says the last part with a flippant wave of his hand.
I furrow my brow and nibble a corner of my lip to keep my response at bay.
He gives me a pointed look. “Come on. I know that expression. Out with it, already.”
“It’s just…” I take a deep breath and gather my courage. “I don’t fully understand you. You say you need to prove you’re capable of a serious courtship, and yet you’re pretending with me. You say you’re trying to be the heir your court needs, and yet you glamour your ambassador to take your place at the ball for the sake of a riddle when you could have taken the opportunity to show everyone who you really are. You say you must gain the respect of the humans and fae, but whenever you get a chance to interact with the humans, you flee from them. Or use me as a shield.”
“A shield,” he echoes, a note of disbelief in his voice.
I gesture toward the surrounding lake, at the rowboats that maintain their distance while their occupants stare our way with eager smiles. “Yes, Franco, a shield. You use my presence and our false courtship to keep others from approaching us. Instead of coming here alone and stopping to talk with the people you’ve agreed to host for the season, you’re out here, as far away from them as you can be.”
His jaw tenses, wings twitching with agitation. “I’m fully aware of what a poor prince you think I make, and trust me, I don’t blame you.”
“That’s all you have to say about it?”
“What else is there to say? I know I can’t measure up. I know I don’t have what it takes to fill my sister’s shoes.”
