Her cheap attempt to throw him off almost worked. He pulled back. Swallowed. Ran his tongue along his back teeth.
Then he said with a chilled calm, “Sure.”
She stiffened. “You’re a hypocrite.”
“Really?” He gave a weak snicker. “I wormed my way into your life with lies and hid under your nose for months on end?”
“You lied to me since the day I met you.” She gestured jerkily toward the door and the better part of the palace beyond. “I waited years. Years for you to trust me enough with this secret. How important could I have been to you if you never told me you were royalty?”
His frown was slow, but serious.
“You talk about friendship and betrayal, but what trust did you show me?” She tried to raise her voice, but it just cracked. “You never let me in.”
He mirrored her gesture toward the door. “None of this mattered.”
“It’s always mattered.” A flush ran up her neck as she exposed the hurt she’d kept buried. “You’re a prince. And you didn’t tell me. How can that not matter?”
“I tried to tell—”
“Don’t,” she said, raising a hand. “Don’t pretend that day was significant. You were only going to tell me because you had no other choice. You didn’t want me to know. You didn’t trust me to keep it secret. You can’t pretend that it was meant to be special to tell me hours before the rest of the world found out. It would have meant nothing, so I didn’t want to hear it.”
His steady gaze was troubled by realization. “You’re right.”
She blinked.
“I’m sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I should have told you. As a sign of trust. Because I did trust you. My lineage didn’t mean anything to me, but I shouldn’t have assumed it would mean nothing to you.”
She pressed her lips together to stop herself from answering.
It means everything to me. It rules me as tightly as it rules you.
Then he moved.
Not to the door, as he should have, but to the armchair. For a moment, he stood in front of it, digging a hand into his back pocket—then, withdrawing a crumpled paper bag, he sat down with a sigh. Knees wide, elbows on his thighs, he unrolled it and dug his hand in.
In a subdued kind of silence, he started eating cashews.
She frowned. The palace kitchen offered any snack he could crave, and he’d chosen cashews? Whenever they’d shared mixed nuts, he always fished them out for her, because he didn’t particularly like them, and he knew she—
Oh. He knew she loved them.
Frankie swallowed. “Comfortable, are you?”
He glanced at her. Cocking his brow, he held out the bag and gave it a little shake.
Woah, no. She didn’t budge. “I’ll escort you back to your suite.”
His expression seemed to say suit yourself as he tucked back into the bag. “I’m not ready yet.”
Exhaustion slumped down her spine, rapidly replacing the fight in her. “You should be.”
“Why?”
“Because . . .” She raised a shoulder, almost helplessly. Because he’d threatened ‘an end’ when he’d arrived, and this wasn’t it. “You’re supposed to hate me.”
His hand stilled, and for a few moments, he watched her. “How am I supposed to do that, Frankie?” he asked quietly. “I can’t stand being angry with you. This week, I’ve felt . . . wrong—like the earth’s rotating backward or something and just existing makes me sick. If that’s anger, I can’t imagine how I could possibly hate you and keep living.”
Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Jesus, Kris.”
And there, she’d gone and said his name.
There was the rustle of the bag shaking again and when she looked at him, his lips were twisted sadly. He said, “Sit with me.”
She absolutely would not sit with her prince.
Sighing again, his gaze shifted to her pile of belongings on the table. Keys, swipe cards, phone, wallet. He frowned and leaned forward, picking up the final item and holding it up. “Still carry this around?”
Her oldest possession, those brass knuckles.
“Some people feel naked without their phones.” Yet Frankie felt starkly vulnerable without the weight of those metal rings in her pocket. “I don’t carry them to be used. I just . . .”
Needed the reminder. Of where she’d come from; how determined she’d been to fight her way out.
Putting the bag down, he tried sliding his fingers through the four loops. It jammed before it reached his middle knuckles.