Page 73 of Violet

I nod. “It’s an unfortunate truth.”

“You don’t like her?”

“I know you might disagree with me here, but blood doesn’t always mean family,” I say. “Sophine has always caused me more grief than anything else. Penrith is my family. That’s all I need.”

A waiter comes, recites the specials. We both order the duck, and I order an expensive bottle of wine before he shuffles off and we’re alone again.

“Why did you kiss me again?” she asks out of nowhere, and I nearly choke on my next breath.

“Kiss you?”

“Yeah, like that. Like you were trying to prove something.”

I lick my lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She sighs. “It doesn’t matter. Because of it, the Monarch is forcing you to mark me, for us to mate.”

The misery on her face is hard to ignore. It tugs at my pride. “Would being my mate be that bad?” I ask. “You told the Monarch you like me.”

Her cheeks redden in a slight blush. “I do. You haven’t given me any reason not to like you.”

I don’t know why, but that stings. When she had told Sophine that she liked me, I thought she meant more than…like an acquaintance.

“But to be mated with someone who doesn’t want to be mated to me? That’s not the life I want for myself.”

Ah.

“But you’re okay with being mated to someone you don’t love.”

“You’d rather not be mated at all,” she replies with a biting edge.

I look around at the neighboring tables, but everyone seems too engrossed in their meals to be paying us any attention.

“Listen. The Monarch’s clearly doing this to get back at me for…for not always bowing to her whim.” I almost slip up there and resurrect something I want to keep buried. “I’ve been thinking of a way to get us out of it.”

“Have you come up with anything?” she asks.

“Not yet. But I’ll think of something.”

She frowns. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this hidden. Especially from Heath. He always shoulders everything. I try but he’s carrying the house, all of us.”

“He probably would say the same thing about you.” Actually, I know he would. He has.

She doesn’t answer that. Instead, she circles back to the main conversation. “We don’t have much time before the next event. The Monarch’s going to want to see a mark…”

“I know.”

“And I don’t want this ruining anything I may have with Mr. Stockton.”

The mention of that man is like a slap to the face. “You’re still considering him?”

“Of course I am.”

The waiter comes with the wine. He uncorks the bottle and begins to pour us each a generous glass. I chug all of mine before he’s done pouring Violet’s, and with wide eyes, he refills mine.

When he leaves, Violet continues, “His interest is real. This—” she waves her hand between us “—isn’t.”

“You know nothing about him,” I argue.

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