“Does a cat who tries to suffocate her kittens give a shit when they’re resuscitated?”
I sigh deeply. “Have you discussed this with Dr. Hess?”
“My mommy issues? Yes. At length.”
“And?”
“And Dr. Hess thinks I should try writing her a letter. She says I don’t have to actually send it. But just the act of writing down all the shit I’d like to say to Octavia after so many years of manipulation and emotional blackmail will apparently help me let go of some of my anger toward her.”
“Sounds like a productive idea.”
“Sounds like psychobabble bullshit.”
“As someone with a psychology degree, I take offense at the term psychobabble.”
“Noted.” Chloe narrows her eyes at me. “I’m still confused why you’d ever encourage me to reach out to my mother, though. You, of all people, should hate her. She’s been nothing but terrible to you since the moment you showed up in our lives.”
“True enough. But I also know that relationships between parents and their children are never black and white. It’s all gray. Just look at me and Linus. We never really got the chance to know each other. Now, we never will. When he was alive, I had so much anger and resentment toward him for not being the perfect father… for not being any sort of father… But now he’s gone — and so is my anger. All I feel is regret.”
“This is Octavia we’re talking about, though. Octavia. You really think she’s someone who can be redeemed? Someone who’ll suddenly stop being a monstrous bitch after twenty-two years of mistreatment, simply because I send her a lame letter?”
“Of course not.” I snort at the preposterous idea. “I’m just saying, rage can be blinding — it can overpower more nuanced feelings, to the point that you never actually process them. Being angry at someone doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed feel anything else toward them.You can hate your mother and still be sad about the state of your relationship with her. You can loathe her and still long for a different sort of bond. You’re entitled to mourn the hole someone’s left in your life, even if that person isn’t worthy of filling it.”
She stares at me for a beat. “You know, for someone with such a high emotional intelligence quotient, you’re remarkably obtuse when it comes to your own relationships.”
“I just told you, I wish I’d dealt with my anger at Linus better—”
“I’m not talking about Linus.”
I blink slowly, feeling my pulse spike. If she’s not talking about my father, then… who? Chloe doesn’t know about my relationship with Carter. Not officially, anyway. She may suspect a certain level of attraction — of unrequited love, as she accused Carter the night we dragged her out of the club. If her insight extends beyond that… We’ve certainly never discussed it.
How could we?
This isn’t some typical schoolgirl crush two sisters giggle over during a sleepover. My love story doesn’t follow generic patterns of courtship.
Girl meets boy.
Girl falls for boy.
Girl lives happily ever after.
Even if the boy in question wasn’t her closest blood relation… A torrid tryst with your stepbrother is simply not the kind of secret you share. Not even with the people you trust most. Not if you want it to stay a secret for long.
I know full well that if Carter and I were ever found out, it would be a scandal epic enough to rock the royal household. The fallout — from the press, from the public — would be unimaginable. I can see the headlines already, one long parade of humiliation in bolded font.
STEPBROTHER BOMBSHELL! INSIDE QUEEN EMILIA’S INCESTUOUS LOVE AFFAIR
THORNE IN HER SIDE: EMILIA’S ROYAL TRANSGRESSIONS REVEALED!
OH BROTHER! READ THE SCOOP FROM AN INSIDE SOURCE ON PAGE 4
I swallow hard, attempting to banish the thoughts. “Chloe…”
“You can talk to me, you know. About anything.” Her voice is soft, unassuming. Her eyes are bright with sincerity. “I wouldn’t ever judge you, Emilia.”
My mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
Does she know?
Before I can ask, there’s a polite knock on the door to her suite as three seamstresses bustle in bearing a rack of designer dresses. The moment is lost, slipping through our fingers like silk.
But as we laugh and joke over different outfit options for tomorrow night’s event, I can’t quite forget the awareness I saw in Chloe’s eyes. And I can’t stop wondering whether my closest-guarded secret… isn’t such a secret anymore.
After we decide on dresses — a lavender cape-dress for me, a black strapless sheath for Chloe — we make a big bowl of popcorn and put on a scary movie, reclined back against the headboard of her bed. By the third act, we’ve both got pillows pressed against our faces, half-hiding our eyes whenever the music starts to crescendo.
The suspense is just reaching its climax — the deformed man with the chainsaw is about three seconds away from massacring the heroine — when the door to Chloe’s suite swings open unexpectedly.
Bam!
It hits the wall with a terrifying bang that shaves several years off my life. Chloe and I both let out bloodcurdling screams. The popcorn bowl goes flying, scattering kernels across her bedspread. When the lights flip on, we’re practically cowering in fear — heads cradled in our arms, braced for the chainsaw-wielding maniac who is no doubt about to hack us to bits.
“Bad time?”
The male voice is amused.
Peeking out from the gaps between my fingers, my face contorts into a scowl as I see it is not, in fact, a psycho-killer here to inflict damage on my body.
Just a lady-killer, here to inflict damage on my heart.
“Asshole,” Chloe mutters, scrambling for the pause button on the remote. The TV screen freeze-frames on a particularly bloody scene. “You totally did that on purpose.”
Carter strides into the room looking uncharacteristically formal. He’s wearing a suit and his hair is styled back in a way that accentuates the sharp angles of his face. “Actually, I’m just getting back from a meeting. I was swinging by to say goodnight. Scaring the shit out of you was no more than a happy side-effect.”
“We weren’t that scared,” I grumble, scooping handfuls of popcorn back into the bowl.
He scoffs. “Sure. Okay. Let’s go with that.”
“Another meeting?” Chloe pins her brother with a curious stare. “That’s, like, your third one this week.”
“Fourth.”
My brows go up. I want to pepper him with questions about what he’s doing in his spare time that requires so many meetings… but I have a feeling any curiosity that comes from me will be met with instant resistance. Better to let Chloe wheedle information out of him.
“Are you ever going to tell us what this new business venture of yours actually entails?” she asks pointedly. “Or am I supposed to start guessing trades?”
“Doesn’t seem like the most productive use of your time, but if you want to start guessing… have at it, sister.”
She glares at him. “Pigheaded bastard.”
“Pushy brat,” he volleys back.
“Prick!”
“Priss.”
“Playboy.”
“Pill-popper.”
“Recently reformed!” She wags a stern finger at him. “Don’t make me force the information out of you, brother. I know all your dirty laundry. Every skeleton you’re keeping in those Prada-stuffed closets of yours.”
“Blackmail? Really, Chloe?” He smirks. “Some thanks I get, after all I’ve done for you…”
“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on needing your help ever again.”
“Good. I might not always be around to bail you out of trouble.”
“What, are you going somewhere?” Chloe rolls her eyes at him. “Moving far, far away, unacceptably out of cell service when your one and only sister on the entire planet needs to reach you?”
Carter’s jaw clenches and he looks swiftly a
way.
“Oh my god!” Chloe pushes off the bed, onto her feet. “You’re not seriously thinking about leaving Vasgaard?”
He’s suspiciously silent.
“Leaving Germania?” Chloe gasps when she reads the affirmation on his face. “What the hell, Carter? Why would you do that?”
“I have my reasons,” he murmurs lowly. “The chance to launch a real career, for one.”
The chance to get away from Germania — and its queen — for another.
He doesn’t say it aloud, but the possibility bounces around inside my head anyway. My fist curls unintentionally around the handful of popcorn I’m holding, reducing it instantly to crumbs. I feel my world shift into slow motion, like someone’s turned down the dial that controls the earth’s centripetal force.
He’s leaving.
Actually leaving.
“The meetings I’ve been going to all week…” Carter shifts his weight from foot to foot. “They’re actually the second phase of a project I’ve been working on for a while now. If the investors come through and things go as planned… I’ll be moving to Switzerland.”
“Switzerland?!” Chloe explodes. “How could you not tell me about this sooner?”
Carter’s avoiding his sister’s eyes. And mine. “Nothing’s final yet.”
“Final or not — you should’ve told me!”
“The past three months… you haven’t exactly been chatty, Chloe,” he points out. “And since you’ve gotten clean, you’ve been doing so well… I hesitated to derail your progress with news that might upset you.”
“But why would you leave? This is our home.”
“I don’t have a home anymore, Chloe. I guess I never really did.” He laughs, but there’s no amusement in the sound. “Linus was the Duke. He was our link to Hightower. And now he’s dead. We’ve been staying there with royal generosity—” His eyes flicker to mine for the briefest of moments. “—but we cannot continue to count on that.”
My mouth opens. “But—”
He cuts me off. “I have no title. I have nothing except my own hands to make a name for myself. With the inheritance Linus left me in his will… for the first time, I have a chance to carve out my own path. To make the name Thorne mean something.”
“It already means something!” Chloe protests.
“Right — the royal hangers-on. The freeloading family that attached itself to the crown like those suckerfish on the underbelly of a shark.” Carter’s words are scathing. “I will not continue our mother’s tradition of leeching off the Lancasters for my entire life, Chloe. I can’t.”
“Fine! Whatever!” Her hands lift in surrender. “But you don’t have to leave the country to do that.”
He cranes his neck and glances at the ceiling, trying to keep his cool. “I know you don’t want me to leave. But can’t you understand? You’re stepping out from the shadow of who you used to be. It’s time I do as well. Past time.”
She falls silent.
“You can stay at Hightower,” I interject, struggling to keep the plea out of my voice. “As long as you want. As far as I’m concerned, it’s your home—”
“No.”
“Here, then,” I offer recklessly, unable to hold back.
Carter’s jaw ticks with tension. “Absolutely not.”
I bite my bottom lip to keep the rest of my pleas locked inside. My body feels tight as a bowstring, every muscle tense with the realization that nothing I say will make him stay.
He’s really leaving.
“Don’t be stubborn, big brother.” Chloe pouts at him. “Stay.”
“Chloe, I’m glad you’re back here at the castle. Truly. I’m glad you’ve found a place for yourself.” He sighs. “But now… I need you to let me find mine.”
“I just can’t believe you’d actually leave,” she whispers.
Suddenly, Carter’s looking right at me. I’m unprepared for the emotions blasting at me from his eyes; they hit me like a sucker punch. “Things change, Chloe. People change. Priorities change. I’m not going to stick around a place where there’s no future for me. Not anymore.”
My stomach sinks into my feet, heavy as a cannonball.
“No future for you? I call bullshit,” Chloe mutters. “I want to know what work opportunity is worth leaving me behind to go to Switzerland, of all places. God, didn’t you get enough during your boarding school years? How many milkmaids can you possibly nail before the allure wears off?”
Carter ignores the question, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “You act like I’m conspiring against you, Chloe. This isn’t personal. It’s—”
“Business?” I mutter darkly, unable to stop myself.
His eyes cut to mine, brow furrowed. He doesn’t say a word.
I scan his face, trying desperately to read his thoughts, but they’re indecipherable to me. Whatever he’s thinking, whatever he’s feeling right now… whether he’s actually serious about this new business endeavor that will take him out of the castle, out of Germania, out of my life…
It’s a total mystery.
“When would you go?” Chloe’s voice is thready. “How soon?”
He blows out a breath. “I’m not going anywhere yet. Not until…”
“Until you’re sure I’m on the sobriety train for good this time?” She snorts. “Don’t change your plans on my account. If you want to leave, by all means… go. I won’t be the reason you miss your shot at a Swiss bank account full of francs. Even if I do think you’ll miss me. And that leaving is idiotic. And that you’ll be bored in, like, three seconds if you actually get a real job like a responsible adult.”
“He’s already a responsible adult,” I blurt without thinking. “Having a job doesn’t make you responsible. Taking care of people when they need you, showing up for them when they’re falling apart — that’s what matters. That’s taking responsibility. Not a time clock or a pay stub.”
The air goes still. Everyone is caught off guard by what’s just come out of my mouth — me most of all. My cheeks feel suspiciously red as the words linger out there, unclaimed and uncontested. I don’t know what to say or where to look.
Say something.
Say anything.
But I can’t seem to find any more words. The thought of Carter moving away, of him being out of my life completely, is oddly paralyzing. It shouldn’t be. After all, I’ve spent the past three months without him.
If I’m honest with myself, though, in the back of my mind I always knew our paths would cross again. That, someday, we’d end up back here — our orbits overlapping once more. I never once considered he might remove himself permanently. That…
I might really lose him.
For good, this time.
“Right.” Chloe clears her throat a little awkwardly, finally breaking the silence. She plops down on the bed beside me. “See, Carter? Emilia doesn’t think you should abandon us for Switzerland, either.”
“Doesn’t she?” he asks, soft as a prayer. “I wasn’t aware she gave a fuck.”
“Of course I give a fuck,” I whisper, barely audible.
He scoffs. “News to me.”
My pulse is pounding at my temples, a mad tattoo. My heart is lodged inside my throat. I swallow uselessly against it and hope like hell my words come out even.
“As someone with very little say in her own future, I’m the last person who would ever suggest someone stay on a path they no longer want to be on.”
“So you think I should go?”
When he asks the question, I glance up to meet his eyes and find they’re locked on my face, studying my expression with rattling intensity.
“I think…” I drift off. My thoughts are at war, my heart a tangled mess of contradictory emotions. I know I should tell him to go; it would be better for both of us, in the long run. Having a healthy amount of distance between us. A national border, no less.
Go, I should say. Get away from this crazy life. Forge something new for yourse
lf, with a girl who’s capable of loving you back the way you deserve to be loved. A normal girl who can walk with you in public, hold your hand, kiss your lips, go on dates.
But the words he spoke two weeks ago are still haunting me. Making me hesitate.
Maybe you should ask yourself why the thought of missing your shot at love doesn’t terrify you just as badly as losing the actual person you love.
If I continue holding him at arm’s length… if I push him away again… This time, he’s going to walk away. For good. And that knowledge is enough to make every atom in my body ache like I’ve been thrown down a flight of stairs.
“Emilia?” Chloe prompts.
I’d forgotten she was even here, I’m so thoroughly trapped in the tractor-beam of Carter’s eyes. The moment drags, fraught with tension. Every breath feels jagged-edged inside my lungs. Every second passes like a year.
“I think you should go,” I finally say in a cracking voice. “But I really hope that you don’t.”
He holds my eyes — one, two, three unending seconds — before his head swings toward the wall. I study the sharp line of his jaw, where a muscle is ticking rhythmically. After a moment, his Adam’s apple bobs with a rough swallow.
“I have another meeting early in the morning.” His words are as stiff as his strides as he turns for the hallway. “I’ll say goodnight now.”
“Don’t forget the charity auction tomorrow!” Chloe calls after him as he shuts the door firmly. In the silence that follows, I take my first clear breath in minutes.
“He could’ve at least stayed for the rest of the movie,” Chloe grumbles. “Especially if he’s leaving the country.” She elbows me sharply in the side. “Hey, you don’t really think he’s serious about going, do you?”
“He sounded serious.”
“We need to convince him to stay. I’ll appeal to his emotional side — play the I’m-still-in-recovery-and-need-you-with-me card. You can use logic. Maybe point out—”
“No.” I swallow. “I don’t think I’m the right person to convince your brother of anything, Chloe.”
She pauses for a long time. “Or… maybe you’re the only person who can. Maybe it’s not my love that he’ll stay for. Maybe it’s yours.”
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