I shake my head, not wanting to burden him when he’s in such a weakened state. “The specifics don’t matter, but that doesn’t change the facts: she wants megoneand there’s nothing she will not to do accomplish that goal.”
“That’s simply not true, Emilia.”
“Oh, okay.” My eyes roll heavenward. “You’ve convinced me.”
Linus sighs. “She came to me because she’s concerned about you.”
I scoff.Loudly.
“She wanted me to know you felt unsafe with your current security detail. That you’ve insisted on setting up your own unit of guards. And she is not the only one who’s brought this matter to my attention.”
“Let me guess — Bane came in declaring his deep love for me as well? Honestly, they should start an official Emilia Fan Club…”
“He was rather worked up.” Linus steeples his hands in front of his mouth. “I’ve never seen him in such a state in all the years I’ve known him.”
“I tend to have that effect on misogynistic, power-hungry assholes.”
He barks out a rough laugh.
“I suppose you think it’s an absurd idea as well?” I ask, a bitter thread weaving through my words. “My Princess Guard?”
“On the contrary. I support it completely.”
My brows go up. “You do?”
“Yes.” His green eyes crinkle in a smile. “I want nothing more than for you to feel safe in this palace, Emilia. I heard about the protestors outside the gates yesterday. And I know my coronation didn’t go quite as planned…”
A snort pops out. “You could say that.”
“I know the security measures must feel excessive to you. That you’ve been… cooped up, to say the least. But I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner here. I want you to feel as though… well, as though this is your home.”
Home?
I almost laugh.
My home is a ramshackle two-story house on Peach Street in Hawthorne, with a fading, painted mailbox that says LENNOX in Mom’s sloping brushwork. My home is a lumpy twin mattress in a blue bedroom barely larger than a closet, with creaky floor boards and bad insulation. My home is one door down from the Harding family, in whose backyard I spent many afternoons sitting in a treehouse with a blond boy I used to call my best friend.
This cold stone castle will never be my home.
Linus must read the emotions on my face, because he sighs again. “I’d hoped you would not be entirely unhappy here. I can see I was wrong.”
Guilt sluices through me. “It’s not that I’m unhappy. Just… a bit bored.”
“But I’m told you’ve been riding nearly every day with Hans. And you have your stepsiblings for company. I thought you were getting along with Chloe and Carter?”
If you only knew the half of it…
“I do get along with them, but they’re busy with their own lives. Plus, I’ve finished my coursework for the semester. I suppose I’m feeling rather restless without it.” I chew my bottom lip. “You have to understand — I spent three and a half years working towardonegoal. To become a psychologist. And now, I’m not doing anything of consequence. Nothing I do has any purpose or meaning.”
“That is simply untrue.”
Linus reaches for the newspaper sitting on the end table beside him. Smiling softly, he extends it toward me. After a moment’s hesitation, I reach out and grab it. My eyes widen as I take in the bold headline across the front page.
THE PEOPLE’S PRINCESS: HER ROYAL HIGHNESS EMILIA CHARMS CROWDS AT REMEMBRANCE DAY CEREMONIES
Beneath the headline, there’s a color photograph of me crouched on the street, reaching through the partition to set my tiara atop Annie’s head. Below the fold, another frame shows me standing at the podium, mid-speech. The look on my face is one I’ve never seen before — full of passion. Emblazoned with energy and undeniable excitement.
I barely recognize myself.