Page 58 of The Wanted Prince

“He still loves you,” said Carlo, from my sitting room.

I jumped. “You’re here?”

“We weren’t done talking.” He took me by the arm. “Come and sit down.”

I sat, having no strength to resist. Carlo poured us some coffee, then he sat down too. “You know he loves you, right?”

I shrugged. “Honestly?”

“He’s always had a temper. You know he’ll cool down.”

“He wouldn’t even see me.”

Carlo winced. “Yeah, that’s bad. But it’s a lot to take in, you running off, and now this thing with Laura.”

I lowered my head. “What does he know? About Laura, I mean?”

“The same as we all know: practically nothing.” Carlo leaned over and smacked me on the arm. “Were you really traveling with Laura Cardona?”

I sipped my coffee and said nothing. It burned my tongue. Carlo gave me another swat.

“Come on. I don’t care.”

I snorted. “Sure you don’t. That’s why you’re asking.”

“I care because you’re my brother, and you’re in pain.” He went in for another smack, but I batted him away. “You can tell me what’s happening, just between us.”

I sat sullen, tight-lipped, waiting for him to leave. But Carlo only leaned back in his chair.

“I’ve got all day,” he said. “And you know I like Laura, right? If you think I’m still stewing about some old coup, some war our great-great-great grandfathers fought…”

“Father is,” I said.

Carlo laughed. “No, he isn’t. He’s been friends with Lord Cardona behind closed doors for years, and I’m not talking some show of civility. They’re actual friends. I think they always have been. It’s just awkward because, you know.”

I nodded. I knew. Santaviedo had, on its surface, moved on from the war, but the factions still lived in our politics. In our football teams, too. We’d had a few riots.

“Listen,” said Carlo, “if you are seeing Laura, I’d say it’s not the worst thing in the world. It’s time we buried the hatchet, and not just our two families. Our history’s bloody, but it is history. We don’t have to hold onto it, much less repeat it. If Laura makes you happy, I’d say go with that.”

I laughed. “What, marry her? I’m headed for prison.”

Carlo kicked me this time. “You think I’d let that happen?”

“It might not be up to you.”

“It is if I’m king.” He drew himself up. “If Father condemns you, he knows it won’t stand. He’ll pass on the crown to me or to Dom, and our first act in power will be to grant your pardon.”

“Still, I’ll be disgraced. I can’t drag her into that.”

“You could go to New York with her, where most folk don’t know you.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and let myself picture that, Laura and me in some Big Apple penthouse, the city below us and clear skies above. Maybe we’d go out for fruit from the market, or whatever people did in New York. We’d do all the tourist stuff. She’d show me around. I’d ask her to marry me in Central Park, or maybe on the viewing deck at the Empire State Building. We’d build a whole life. I’d get a job. I’d go into finance, or maybe law.

“You didn’t do this,” said Carlo. “The truth will come out. Even if you do leave here, it won’t be forever.”

But maybe it would be. Maybe I wouldn’t mind. I wondered if Laura had gone home already, if she missed me as much as I missed her. I hoped she didn’t, because I missed her too much. Her absence was painful, an ache in my chest. I couldn’t wish that on her, but a little twinge, maybe. A subtle, sharp tightening when she thought of me.

CHAPTER 22

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