Page 48

“To create is to reign,” Ashby says, as if this is obvious. “Also, I ordered them to.”

My stomach swoops with disappointment, even though it’s easier this way. “Thank you.” The Princes don’t care about this place, and if they did, I’d find it intolerable.

“I’ve been meaning to find a moment alone with you.” He looks around the garden, to the new growth, then back to the other end where it’s overrun with brambles and brush. “I assume you’ve done the math. About your mother and me?” He’s watching me with a gentleness that feels too calculated, as if he’s trying on an awkwardly fitting suit. “Perhaps she’s already filled your mind with nonsense and lies.”

“We haven’t even spoken,” I say, sensing that ignorance is the best way out of this. “But even if we had, I doubt she would have told me.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows hike upward. “It’s not so terribly salacious. Things were different then, and Miranda was a good Princess; faithful, healthy, and obedient.” My belly curdles at his words, Ashby’s long sigh rattling the stillness. “In my time, it was thought horribly improper to use one’s Princess purely for carnal pleasure.”

Every cell of my being rebels at having this knowledge. “I don’t really need to—”

“There was a storm,” he barrels on. “Hurricane Hazel. It might surprise you to know all the Royal houses—even Saul Cartwright and your mother—evacuated to the Barons’ crypt for shelter. Yes,” he says, noticing my shock, “we can occasionally put aside our differences and work together. You can imagine the tension.”

South, North, East, and West locked in one room? “I really can’t.”

Ashby gives a small chuckle. “Oh, it was a sight to behold. The Bruins and their guns, South Side and its whores, Lucia and his Countess, the Barons and their shadows, and then there was us.Allof us, except for my poor Miranda and our son, who I’d hidden away with my uncle, the old King. The roar of wind tearing the heavens apart. It was utter chaos that night.” He smiles wistfully at the memory and adds, “You were created in the eye of a storm, Verity.”

I pull forth the courage to ask the question that’s nagged at me for weeks. “So you’ve known about me this whole time?”

“Sadly, no.” He shakes his head. “Not until you were much older, truth be told. Your mother wasn’t a Royal, and other than that night in the crypt, our circles didn’t overlap. You know how Libby is,” he offers a conspiratorial grin, “no one is going to find out a thing unless she wants them to.”

Clearly, my mother is adept at keeping secrets.

He goes on, “Admittedly, I don’t know how much it would have mattered anyway. I was focused on keeping my son healthy, not to mention my new fledgling empire and all the things that come with running a territory. By the time I’d learned about you, I’d lost Michael and adopted two of my new sons. I had my hands full raising the two of them to carry on the mantle.” He laughs quietly and glances down at my stomach. “No, I brought you in when we were ready, and together you’ve achieved my greatest lasting accomplishment.”

Pawns, I realize.

That’s all we are to him. My mother, me, his sons…

Ashby comes to my side, making me tense, but one glance reveals that his gaze is far away. “My sons aren’t good boys, Verity, but they’ll do as they’re told. You should take better advantage of them.”

It takes a lot of energy to school my expression into something neutral. That might be the worst part about being around him. The exhaustion of pretense. “How so?”

“Each of them has their strengths,” he explains, icy eyes scanning the garden. “Whitaker is excellent in a crowd. He draws attention and prestige because he’s a jewel. Much like these flowers,” Ashby fingers a green bud, “he blossoms in the sunlight. Having him on your arm will elevate your standing. You understand why that’s important, don’t you?”

Sourly, I reply, “Because in East End, image is everything.”

“Don’t be dim.” His gaze falls on mine, making me shiver. “He’s a flashy diversion. If you’re struggling with the campus’ attention, he will soak it up like a sponge.”

I look away, feeling sick that he’s aware of my movements outside this house. “Oh, right, of course.”

“Pace is quite the opposite,” Ashby continues. “Night-blooming, like jasmine. He’ll keep you protected in places the others can’t reach. Mind you, you don’t require hisphysicalpresence, but you do need his watch.” He says this a little too flippantly, tripping alarms in my head. “And Lex, well. He will nourish your body, and attend to its many needs. Creation is hard work. Consider Lex its humble servant.” He tilts his head, studying me. “I get the feeling you’re aware of this, and yet you’ve chosen Whitaker to bed down with this week.”

Nervously, I try to glance behind me, hoping to see Danner’s silhouette in the doorway.

He’s not there.

I ask meekly, “Is that a problem?” I’ve covered the bruise on my head well enough that it can’t be obvious. The knot has gone down since yesterday, and when Wicker awoke this morning, wrapped around me like a vise, he chose to fling himself away instead of me.

I’ve carved out some measure of understanding with him.

That’s why I’ve kept Wicker in my bed.

“No, certainly not.” Ashby gives me a grin that’s anything but comforting. “I’d only want you to consider the function of a jewel. It’s fun to look at, but its ultimate value is speculative. At the end of the day, a diamond is just a fancy rock.”

I’m struck by the notion that I might be standing beside the only person in Forsyth whose opinion of Wicker is lower than mine. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I mutter, hoping that’s the end of it.

It’s not.