Page 81 of His Noble Ruin

I looked around at the blackness I floated in, absorbing the desolate comfort of the nighttime sea. I normally wouldn’t have wanted to answer personal questions, but the thought of talking about my parents seemed nice. “My father got his hands on a boat and climbed the wall into the city.”

“He sounds like you.” A half-smile played at his lips.

“Just wait.” I smiled, too. “Then he impersonated a noble and met my mother at an Academy ball.”

“Your mother was anoble?” He laughed. “This really was a scandal.”

“You have no idea.” I beamed with pride.

“So, what happened?”

I shrugged. “They fell in love.” I had no intention of telling him the entire story. “Her family wasn’t thrilled, to say the least. She chose a man who was the complete opposite of the Cambrian type.”

“The Cambrian type,” he muttered, staring down at the deep black water. I followed his gaze, watching the choppy reflection of the waning half-moon ripple across the surface. When I looked up, he seemed closer. I flinched, fighting the urge to run.

But it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable.

“When I’m king, I’ll have no choice but to marry ‘the Cambrian type,’” said Graham.

“Any favorite Cambrian ladies?” I asked with a wink.

“Eh . . .” Graham made a face. “Not particularly. Besides, if I did have a favorite, she’d have to be an Immovable or in Class A for it to be legal. And of course, my mother would certainly torment anyone who didn’t earn her approval, which would leave me with even fewer options.”

“I guess that rules out Mara Stroud, then,” I said. “Your mother clearly despises her —oh, and the Eleventh House, too. So they’re no good.”

“No one is.” He laughed. “Not to both my mother and me, anyway.”

“I can imagine,” I said. “Nobles have impossibly high standards—except my mother, obviously.”

“Their story makes me realize how ordinary my parents are,” said Graham. “Take away their titles and you’re left with nothing but a marriage of convenience.”

“If you took away their titles, they might’ve had the opportunity to marry for love instead of convenience,” I said, surprised to hear myself defending them. “In some ways, kings and queens have less freedom than everybody else.”

Graham nodded. “That’s true.”

“Maybe, in another life with different choices, your father could’ve been the kind man I glimpsed. When wefeelwe have no choice is often when we make the worst decisions.”

The moonlight cast a shadow from his messy hair over Graham’s face. He sighed and dropped his head.

I wondered if I shouldn’t have said that about his father. It was too sensitive of a topic. We didn’t even know if he was still alive.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

I looked up at the stars again but was shaken from my focus when I felt his hand on mine. My eyes shot wide open.What was he doing?

But apparently, he couldn’t read me as well as the compass. He moved his fingertips down my hand, oblivious to my panic.

I was as still as a sail without wind.

His fingers slipped between mine.

I closed my eyes and wished I were anywhere but here. Prison, the aqueducts, chatting with the queen. Any of those would be a relief in comparison.

Then pull your hand away!I told myself, but my body didn’t want to. The warmth of his hand was paralyzing. Intoxicating.

Relax. It doesn’t mean anything, another part of my mind argued.

He must have finally picked up on my stillness, or the fact that I hadn’t taken a breath in the past thirty seconds, because his hand lifted and he got to his feet.

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