like a life preserver as we walk, hand in hand, toward the house. When we reach it, I stop her and peek inside. The last thing I need is a confrontation with my father. The corridor is empty, and I gesture that it’s safe. She takes one step inside, and panic seizes me. It’s as though I hear the clock being wound. I’m not ready for it to begin its countdown. My lips find hers and the answers I want to believe. I’m lost to her until her fingertips graze down my shirt and linger on my scar. I grab her wrist, yanking away like I’ve caught a snake.
“No, Clara,” I snap.
Tears well instantly in her eyes, but she plasters a smile on and tugs against my hold on her. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Clara—don’t.” I tighten my grip. “Not here. Not in this place. I can’t explain it to you.”
“Try,” she says, losing patience. Until now, I’d been concerned she came with an unlimited supply of it.
“I can’t.” I’ll never be able to. I won’t ask her to carry my burdens or bear out my vices. “It’s not you, Clara.”
She sighs. “It never is. I thought after this afternoon—”
“You need to change for dinner, poppet,” I interrupt, some sense of self-preservation kicking in. There’s an itch in my brain. If I admit it—if I let her talk about us—it will cost her everything.
“Maybe I should just go home,” she says.
I think it’s a bluff, so I answer. “No.”
Her eyebrow quirks up, and I know I’ve responded incorrectly.
Can’t she see how precious our time is now? Can’t she feel the sands slipping away, each already spent? “I want you to stay, but I’ll understand if you go. I’d leave if I could.”
“Then leave with me.” Her voice is coated with fear. She does feel it, but she doesn’t understand it.
“It’s not that simple, Clara.” This has to play out. If she leaves now—before our time is up, before my father’s threats can be carried out, before I can ruin everything between us—I won’t be able to let her go. I need more time. “I can’t run from this. Not anymore. But there’s something you should know.”
She stares at me, waiting for what I have to say. I’m not even certain what to expect until it slips out of my mouth. “If you run, Clara. I will follow you.”
Only my family is staying in the North Wing, which is why I’m momentarily surprised to see David quietly slip out of a room—until I realize it’s Edward’s. He turns, startling to find me standing there. He takes a deep breath and relaxes.
David shoves his hands in his linen trousers, his toe tracing a line on the tile. This must be his innocent act. “I needed to borrow—”
I wave off whatever concocted excuse he plans to give me. “I know, remember?”
“Actually, I’m leaving. I came by to say goodbye, but he’s not here.”
“Do you want me to pass a message?” I ask.
“What’s the point?” David shrugged. “If he cared—”
“He does,” I cut him off. “It’s complicated, though.”
“Yeah, I know.” His jaw twitches, and I realize he’s wary of another lecture. I wonder how often he gets them from Edward. “It’s always complicated.”
“Always?”
“No,” he admits. “Not when we’re alone—away from all of this.” He gestures to the walls, and I look at it through his eyes. Priceless paintings owned by my family for generations. Antiques so polished they look as though they were acquired new yesterday. And outside, acres of carefully kept land. All given to us because we won some fucking lottery by being born.
“Is it?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Yeah.” David nods. “You’re lucky. You can be here with her, out in the open.”
“With a target on our backs,” I add ruefully. We both understand we’re being hunted. David might resent keeping to the shadows, but it made him less obvious prey.
“Royals have always been targets,” he reminds me. “I think that’s why he keeps me secret.”
This time, I’m the one who nods. “He loves you, you know.”
David laughs. The sound is hollow like the echo of a dry well. “So, he says.”
He turns and makes his way down the hall. I watch him leave, knowing the weekend in the country has claimed its first victim. Edward was daft to bring him here. I shouldn’t have brought Clara. We both know it.
Maybe self-sabotage runs in the family.
Chapter Thirty-Four
After our ride this afternoon—and my father’s none-too-subtle threat during the hunt—I’m feeling possessive of Clara.