She takes the opposite seat at the table and places her hands in her lap. “I would marry a kind man who could provide for me.” Her answer is stiff, devoid of feeling despite the smile she wears.
I raise a brow. “That’s all? If you could have, do, or be anythingever, that’s all you’d want? Just a kind husband? No friends, no hobbies, no aspirations?”
She bites her lip and rubs her palms over her lap.
“It’s all right,” I say. “You can tell me.”
“Well,” she says, drawing the word out slowly, “it isn’t something I could ever do, but sometimes I think I might like to attend university like you said. I would go to Maven University in the Fire Court, perhaps stay with my Aunt Marie while I study. I would make new friends, attend university balls.” Her eyes take on a dreamy quality.
“What would you study?”
She shrugs. “I’ve never let myself consider it. It isn’t something that can happen.”
“Why?”
Her expression falls. “Aside from being poor, Mother would never allow it. She wants to see me wed. She wants me paired with a wealthy man so I can bring wealth and prestige to the family. I, of course, have given up all notions of wealth. I just want to be…not starving.”
I think about the hungry children who attacked the prince’s coach, the desperate man who threatened us with a gun. Could that be the fate I’m condemning my stepfamily to? The wild fae side of me feels no shame, but my human side looks at Clara with a pinch of remorse.
After everything Imogen and Mrs. Coleman have done—and not just to me, but to others—I hold no hopes for their redemption. But Clara…what if there’s hope for her to change? What if she could become a better person with the right opportunities?
My mind whirls to comprehend how I could make that possible. I’m already determined not to risk claiming my inheritance, but after it’s all done, after I’m long gone and far from my stepfamily’s reach, maybe I could write to Franco…
Franco.
My heart squeezes.
“Besides,” Clara says, shifting awkwardly in her seat, “Imogen has assured me I have no admirable talents or qualities worth pursuing, which is why I must put all my focus into marriage, not silly dreams. Do you think you could find me a husband, Your Highness?”
I give her a gracious nod. “I’ll do what I can for you.”
Clara’s answering smile is wide but uneven, her chin quivering beneath it. Then her expression crumples. “Thank you, Your Highness. You don’t know how much that means to me. I don’t care what Imogen says. You are the most lovely and beautiful person and I hope you and the prince are happy forever.” Her last word dissolves into a wail as she sobs into her hands.
I’m frozen in my seat, blinking at her. I’ve never seen Clara cry without it being paired with a tantrum. Perhaps being away from Imogen all day is truly doing her some good.
A knock sounds at the door, and Clara slowly rises to her feet. Wiping the tears from her face, she gives me a ruddy-cheeked smile. “I’ll get it.”
She scurries over to the door and sinks into a curtsy when she opens it. “Your Highness.”
I nearly trip over my feet as I stand, knowing at once who’s on the other side of the threshold. Clara opens the door wide, allowing Franco to enter.
My lungs grow tight, my breaths shallow as I look at him for the first time since our almost-kiss. He smiles shyly at me, then turns to Clara. “May I have a moment alone with the lady?”
Her eyes go wide. “Unchaperoned? In her bedroom?”
“It’s all right,” I say.
Clara looks from me to the prince and back again. Then she gives me a wide grin, followed by an imitation of her zipping her lips shut. “As Her Highness wishes.” She sinks into the deepest curtsy she’s ever given me, then exits the room in a rush.
Alone with Franco, my hearts flutters against the cage of my ribs.
37
FRANCO
My breath catches as my eyes lock on Em’s. All I can think is how close those teal eyes were the last time we were alone together, how I was able to study every hue swimming in her irises. Then, like an idiot, I leaned in to kiss her. Before that moment, I felt her desire as strong as my own. It was a rising, unfurling essence that had my heart pounding in rhythm with hers. One moment, she was leaning in to meet my lips, then the next she was three feet away.
I don’t know what I did to frighten her, but I know I did something. Yet a fragment of that desire I sensed in her that day lingers there now. Or is it my own? Like always in her presence, my emotions are at an all-time high, making it an effort to single out her energetic signature.
