agreeing, he asked me out. I was like, what? We met up at the Bearded Bunting—oh, you might remember that night. You probably handled security. Mark, Kris, Ava, and, uh, Cyrus were all there.” Zara’s voice caught a little on Cyrus’s name.
“Four royals gathered in one public courtyard,” Frankie said as dryly as she could manage. “Trust me, I remember.”
“Adam told me he liked me, too, but he’d always thought I was too good for him.” Zara rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Something about his position as Mark’s manservant helping the privileged stay that way, but that I worked selflessly at the shelter to protect the vulnerable, which benefited the whole community.”
Anarchist views. Flaming red flag.
“Anyway, we sorted it out and got together.”
Frankie’s heart was hammering, pounding against her ribs as if trying to catch Zara’s attention. Adam’s bad, it beat fiercely. Adam’s bad.
“Cute story,” she said instead.
Zara snorted, smiling, and drank more tea. Then she said more quietly, “I’d kind of forgotten about it. How sweet he was that night. He kept telling me that I was beautiful. Courageous.” Her fingertips drummed lightly on her teacup, features soft, almost surprised. “He still says those things.” She paused to cringe. “Wow, I’m so stupid. I hear stories of foul men at the shelter every day—and I have this gentle guy at home who loves me, and I’ve talked myself out of loving him back because I daydream about a prince. How blind can I get? I’m not a freaking cartoon. I can’t do that anymore.”
Sure, you can. “Oh,” Frankie said.
“Do you think—” Zara pulled a face of tentative delight. “Do I love him?”
“I don’t know.” Frankie pulled a face in return—hoping she looked more like a friend who was uncomfortable talking about feelings and less like a she feared Zara was falling in love with a murder suspect. “Does he know much about Ava’s past? I’m just thinking about how hard it must be to keep secrets like that from him.”
“Oh, yeah.” Zara waved her hand distractedly. “Ava said that if I trusted him, she trusted him. I told him all about Darius and the escape.”
Frankie’s vision blanked. “And the king swap?”
“What? No, not that. That’s between Mark and his brothers. Not my place.”
A small win. “Why did he have his bags packed?”
Zara frowned at her. “What?”
Quit sounding like an interrogation. “It’s a funny detail,” Frankie said offhandedly. “You’d said you’d noticed his bags packed before you bumped into him at the palace.”
“Oh, I think it was because I was too good for him? He thought I’d be better off sharing my apartment with someone more like me.”
A simple excuse sweetened by flattery. Clever.
“Enough about us. We’re old news.” Zara pulsed her brows with a grin. “You’ve been very quiet about Prince Kristof. Tell me what you’re not telling me.”
It was everything Frankie could do to act casual as she shared details of the past week. Alarm held her in a trembling grip and each sip of tea tasted like time running out. She had to contact Mark’s guards and instruct them to monitor Adam. She had to tell Philip. Tell her team and the involved authorities. She had to show Adam’s photo to the manager of the Bull’s Quest to confirm he attended those meetings. If this lead proved true, she’d have to tell the full story to Mark and Tommy and Ava.
And Zara.
“Holy mother, Kris is hot,” Zara said as Frankie finished a short yet uncut version of the past week’s developments. “I’ll probably combust being in the same room as you two tonight.” She paused, and then groaned. “I hope it goes well. It has to be perfect for Ava.”
Frankie stood. “You’ve put together a very thoughtful event.” Her voice sounded hollow in her ears. “She’ll love it.”
Zara beamed as she reached for her handbag. “Thanks.”
No. Not a smile. Frankie couldn’t bear to return it. “Shoot, I’ve lost track of time,” she said, and launched herself toward the door. She had to get out—before she bled dry at what this all could mean for Zara.
“Frankie!” Zara called after her. “I meant to ask what you were going to wear.”
“Something bright.” Frankie pulled the door open, not looking back. “Got to run.”
The door swept closed behind her, and as she strode across the arch-ceilinged hall, she pulled out the pin. It shone up at her like a warm, sincere smile.
Adam.
She’d been fucking conned.
14
The rest of the day passed in a horrified flash, and before she knew