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“No.” I fight off a laugh, because after this first month, I don’t think they’re capable of loving anyone but themselves, and maybe each other. “I just don’t want to be miserable all the time. And if we’re going to have sex this much, maybe it could be a little less that,” I nod at her scars, “and a little morethat.” I jab my thumb in the general direction of the horticulture section.

She looks at me in the mirror’s reflection. “I’ve heard stories about the Ashby brothers. Unless they’re massively exaggerated, those boys know what they’re doing in bed.”

“They hate me,” I explain. “They hate being Princes. They all see it as some kind of punishment, and then—”

Her eyes clear. “They take it out on you.”

“Yes.”

“Of course they do.” She rolls her eyes. “And what about you? What do you do?”

Smiling bitterly, I spread my arms. “I take it like a good little Princess.”

Her answer is immediate. “Then you’re going to lose.” She turns, perching on the porcelain sink. “I need to ask you something important now. Chances are, you won’t be sure how to answer.”

Frowning, I say, “Shoot.”

“Is there anything in these guys worth saving?” she asks, eyes serious. “Redeeming qualities? Moments where you looked at them and thought ‘if only things were different?’”

No.

That’s the word that comes up my throat, sharp like a reflex. Only I remember my dinner with Lex the other night. How his eyes shone with such earnest determination as he promised to never let anyone hurt me the way Bruce did. I think of Pace and his bird, and the way he talks to her, so sweet and soft.

Glancing at Story, I confess. “Maybe.”

She nods, some of the tension in her shoulders loosening. “Then here’s my advice. This isn’t a sappy romcom, Verity. It’s Forsyth. Royal men talk a big game about wanting submission and obedience, but you know what they really want?” She props her palms on the edge. “They want a partner. Someone who can match them. It’s why they always run three or four deep. Once they find someone they can trust–someone who gets them–they don’t let that person go. It’s hard to find in this town.”

“I’m not a bystander here.” I lift my shirt and push down my skirt, revealing one of Wicker’s old, yellowing bruises. “I do my duties. They have no interest in me other than being an object to rut against.”

She purses her lips. “The only way to survive this is by taking control of your own life—yes, within the parameters of the system, but control nonetheless. You think our men fell for me and Lav just by us going through the motions?”

I don’t know much about Story and her Lords, but I know Lavinia didn’t just accept her position as Duchess. There were a lot of ups and downs. Sy never wanted her at all. Nick saw her as more of a pet than a person. Remy was so caught up in his mental illness he didn’t know what was real or not. For them to get where they are now, Lavinia had to prove herself to them.

“No,” I admit.

Her eyes soften. “Things were terrible when I first came into the brownstone. I knew these guys. We had a history, and it wasn’t a good one. I was desperate and out of options. Although I agreed to it, I knew I couldn’t take their abuse day in and day out, so the first thing I did was start being their Lady.” She holds up a finger. “NotaLady.TheirLady.”

“How?”

She shrugs. “Little things, like… well, Killian likes it when I wear his jersey with his name and number on it.” She taps the letter on her chest. “Marking his territory is kind of his thing. He is a Lord, after all. Dimitri likes it when I listen to him play the piano. And Tris? He’s fulfilled when he’s taking care of me. I stopped fighting every single thing, and they eased up.”

My face screws up. “By caving?”

“By playing the game, honey.” Her arms cross over her chest, making her tits push up. “Do you know the pressure these guys are under? Likereallyunder, as Royals? Their Kings are breathing down their necks, unless they kill them. Then theybecomethem. They’ve got dozens of soldiers, employees, and businesses to run, all while trying to carve out a little space in life to just be who they are, if they even can even find out who that is. It clearly sounds like your guys already think you’re a burden. Letting them set all the terms isn’t going to make any of this easier on you.”

“So you think I should… what? Romance them?” I take a deep breath. “I’m not sure I even know how to do that.”

“Verity, your mother raised you to be a house girl. You grew up around the Dukes and their Duchesses. Don’t tell me you have no idea how to make a man feel important.”

I point out, “The Dukes aren’t anything like the Princes.”

She snorts. “They’re Royal men, and all of them have three things in common. They’re fueled on ego, nursing trauma from growing up in this godforsaken system, and always thinking with their dicks.” She squeezes my arm. “Allof them. Figure out how to meet those needs and I bet they’ll start meeting yours.”

“Okay.” I nod, trying to work out what that even looks like. “I hear what you’re saying.”

She grins. “Good. I have faith in you, Ver. You’ll figure this out.”

Kissing me on the cheek, she walks out of the bathroom, leaving me alone and reeling from her words.