My sexual “deviance” is clearly among the intimate details of my life Taylor helped herself to, based upon her suggestion. Papa went to great lengths to hide my indiscretions with women and unsavory men, as women in my position are expected to bring only the most suitable suitor into the marital bed. So, naturally, I snuck around a lot. Papa found out a lot. I got in trouble a lot. I suppose the freedom the Order plans to bring to the masses could bring me a certain kind of freedom as well. The simple pleasure of loving and being loved by someone I choose, who chooses to be with me.
“Are you okay?” Taylor cuts into my introspection with an expression of genuine worry. “I apologize if I insulted you. I was kidding. I’m bad at joking with people. That is why I avoid it.”
“I’m not offended, I know you were kidding.” I smile gently. “Besides, even if he was my boyfriend, he doesn’t own me.”
“Good point.”
We turn down another hallway and the smell of breakfast beckons me. It perks up my brain and lets me reroute theconversation. “I suppose I’m surprised there hasn’t been a moment of temptation for you.”
“I have no time for this,” Taylor says, running her fingers along the burgundy painted walls of the hallway.
This piques my curiosity, and not only because I want to level the playing field of information between us. “No time at all? Or no time for ‘Trina’?”
“No time.” Well, that’s characteristically opaque. “There are more important matters to attend to than temptation.”
“So, you’ve never…?” I venture.
“Done indecent things? I did not say that.”
“So, you have.”
“I did not say that, either.”
I toss my hands in the air. “You are infuriating.”
“And you are nosy.”
“I wouldn’t have to be nosy if you weren’t so withholding,” I point out as we enter the dining room. Delilah is already seated, delicately nibbling on a piece of toast and watching our exchange.
She grins up at us as we take our seats next to one another on her left. “Are you trying to pry information out of our beloved chestnut?”
“I’d have better luck pulling her teeth out with my bare hands,” I say as two men bustle over to fill our plates.
We dig into our food in silence, watched by well-dressed servants. It’s sort of comforting in a strange way, like eating at home.
“How are you this morning, Taylor?” Delilah asks, folding a newspaper and placing it next to her mimosa glass.
“Fine.” Taylor shrugs. “About as well as one can expect.”
“Of course. When you’re up to it, I have gathered the resistance leaders in the region. They will be here a few days, waiting on your command.”
“Right. We will meet today.” Taylor’s eyes move to the wall, but she’s not staring at the gilded sconces lighting up the dark wallpaper. She’s calculating.
“Today? Darling, you were stabbed last night.”
“I remember,” Taylor replies. “I will be fine. I need a few hours to plan and comm with Theia.” Delilah summons someone to her side, and whispers to the young teenager who scurries away at her request. Taylor peers over toward the newspaper. “Where is this being printed?”
Delilah flips to the front page. “This one is done in Lansing, I believe.”
She tosses the newspaper to Taylor. From my seat I spot the front page, upon which a giant photo of me is printed. It’s from my eighteenth birthday and embarrassingly formal, with me in a ridiculously poofy dress and a tiara. Princess indeed. But the headline is more eye-catching than my outfit:
PICCOLO OFFERING 12 MIL FOR DAUGHTER
“Holy shit,” I murmur. “Who gets this newspaper?”
“Everyone. Underclass in this region.” Taylor takes the newspaper and scans the front page, then leafs through it, her eyes scanning left and right. She folds the newspaper on its seams and drums her fingertips on the table. “Well, this is not ideal.”
“You think? Plenty of people would be happy to kill me, reward be damned.”
