His eyes darts around, restless and calculating.
Why is he here?
Julian’s gaze shifts to Henri, then back to me. “My connection to Mount Evor and its institutions is deep.”
What was that about?I raise an eyebrow.
He continues with a note of arrogance in his voice, “Being a peer of the realm and a future duke, my relationship with theland is a carnal, visceral bond that a middling count’s second son, who left Mount Evor a decade ago, will never understand.”
Henri’s jaw tightens but he remains silent. Well, he’s free to choose stoicism, just as I’m free to speak my mind!
“Titles and status don’t dictate one’s love for their country,” I point out. “Nor do they determine one’s worth.”
Julian leans forward, the glint in his eye sharpening. “But there’s a difference, Gigi. My loyalty has never wavered. It’s in my blood, my title, my lineage. That’s those things that matter most.”
Henri’s hand clenches briefly, but he still refuses to rise to Julian’s bait.
I counter in a steady voice, “Loyalty isn’t measured by titles. It’s measured by actions and heart.”
“Indeed, it is,” Julian declares, undeterred. “For example, I am a lifelong monarchist, steadfast in my loyalty to the crown, unlike some.” Another glance at Henri. “Which is ironic, really, given his family’s motto and clean history.”
For a moment, I wonder what he’s blabbering about. Then, in a flash, I recall the de Bellay motto I saw framed at Henri’s parent’s apartment, Guided by the Crown, Anchored by Loyalty.
Henri stiffens. The air in the room thickens with tension.
“I firmly believe that constitutional monarchy is the best system of governance,” Julian carries on. “Nations without a royal house lack the cohesive essence to glue them together.”
“True, but—” I begin.
Julian talks over me, not letting me speak. “The world’s most prosperous, democratic, and happy countries have royals at their helm—Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Japan, Monaco, Mount Evor, to name a few.”
“Some of the poorest, corrupt, and tyrannical places around the world are monarchies, too,” Henri counters.
“Nice try,” Julian smirks. “Except, those places are absolute monarchies, which changes everything. Their royals have too much power. In the absence of a robust democratic system, they tend to abuse it, in the same way as nonroyal dictators do.”
I don’t disagree with any of Julian’s statements, but the way he delivers them seems to be part of some game plan and makes me exceedingly uncomfortable.
“Julian, do you mind leaving now so that we can continue our work?” I suggest. “It’s of great importance, and we have limited time.”
His lips paint a humorless smile. “Of course. But only after I’ve shared something with you.”
“Can’t it wait?”
He shoots another glance at Henri. “No. I must tell you before I leave. You won’t like what I have to say, and you might even resent me for it now, but you’ll thank me later.”
Oh, no!Can this be about Henri’s involvement with the conspiracy?
But Julian couldn’t possibly know about it. No one did, besides Carlo, some of his agents, and me. Carlo is dead. MESS agents don’t blab. I haven’t told a soul.
No, Julian doesn’t know about it. This must be something else.
He speaks again, “It is my duty, Gigi, both as someone who cherishes you personally and as your loyal subject, to open your eyes to the snake you’ve befriended.”
The ferocity of his statement makes me lose my tongue.
Julian points at Henri. “He is that snake! He?—”
“Enough!” I cry out. “I forbid you from saying another?—”
