Page 59 of The Thing About My Prince

I nod.

Lexi rolls toward me, onto her side, her shoulder resting on the headboard. Even in the darkness I can see that her blue eyes are wide, her eyebrows raised. Well, I can’t see their blueness right now, but it’s seared into my memory.

“That’s fucking terrible,” she says.

“Yup. But that’s the way we do things in this family. Your research must have thrown up the motto ‘never complain, never explain.’”

She nods. “Which basically means let everyone walk all over you and never defend yourself.”

A surge of…is it elation?…rushes through me at how perfectly she’s summed up everything I’ve felt about this since I was a teenager.

I’ve never felt so seen in my life.

I turn onto my side to face her too. “That’s exactly it.That’s the worst part. It’s not that I wished people would stand up for me, but that I’m not even allowed to stand up for myself. The only thing I can do to escape it is to leave.”

She looks down and runs her fingers along the stitching at the edge of the sheet. “Is there anything worse than a family that would sit back and watch their kid be walked all over and do nothing about it?”

Whoa, that statement sounds like it has something serious behind it. But she shrinks lower in the bed as if she’s snuggling down for the night.

“Is that the thing that bothers you the most? Is that your biggest fear?” Her whisper is huskier now. “That you can’t stand up for yourself?”

“Oh God, no.” I hitch the sheets higher up over my chilly shoulder as I also sink a little further into the pillows. “The thing I worry about is—” I pause and look down at the eyes that are gazing back up at me through the dark. “Are you asking me this for book reasons or because you’re actually interested?”

“Is that your biggest fear, then?” she says. “That no one will ever be genuinely interested in you foryou? That all anyone will ever care about is that you’re a royal and the wealth and influence they think comes with it?”

“Well, it wasn’t what I was going to say. But now you’ve mentioned it, I’m wondering if I should worry about it more. So, you know, thanks for adding to my pile of paranoia.”

She giggles and kicks me under the sheet. The second her toe makes contact with my shin, a glitter cannon fires up my leg sending sparkles across my skin.

“Oh, stop,” she says. “I think you’re pretty good at seeing through people. And I’m damn sure you wouldn’t have let me come here if your gut hadn’t said I’m one of the good guys.”

And, of course, she’s right. But I can’t put my finger on why I trust her, any more than I can put my finger on why Ican’t stop myself from trying to kiss her every time we’re within two feet of each other.

Which is what we are right now, so I need to keep a grip on myself.

“So what is it?’ she asks.

“Sorry. What is what?” My brain’s so all over the place from the fact I’m lying here in bed next to her that I can’t even remember the original question.

“What’s your biggest fear?”

“Oh, that’s easy. That I’ll never have any purpose. That I’ll exist for no reason. What’s yours?”

“Whoa. You can’t drop a bombshell like that and then move on to ‘What’s yours?’”

“But that’s it. It’s pretty simple. What really is the point of what my family does?”

“Well, tomorrow we’re going to your charity event. And that charity would likely not exist without you. All the members of your family do a lot of charity work. That has to be a good thing. And at the other end of the scale, the big state events and pomp and pageantry bring tourists into the country. And thousands of people pour out into the streets and they have a great time and form little communities among themselves, and that’s a good thing too. And I’m sure there’s a whole bunch of shit in between that I don’t even know about.”

“Christ, what’s happened to your hatred of hereditary privilege? Sounds like you’re on the verge of giving up the war correspondent thing and going to work for Giles.”

“I was trying to make you feel better. Just because I think the concept is wrong doesn’t mean I can’t admit there’s a smattering of good things that occasionally come from it. But if I worked for Giles I’d probably punch him in the first five minutes.”

“I’ve been wanting to do that for years.”

Lexi rolls onto her back and stares up at the bed canopy.

“Now I’ve told you mine,” I say. “You have to tell me yours.”