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He needed to ask. “How old were you when you realized...”
Her eyes stared into the distance. “Five, I think,” she said softly. “Yes, that was when I knew for sure. But part of me knew long before, I just did not understand.” Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment and she shook her head, as if she were shaking off memories too painful to bear. When her lovely green eyes opened again, they were clear and calm, accepting of a past that could not be changed.
“I was five, too,” Trace confessed in a low tone, wanting to share with her something of his own bitter past in exchange for her confidences. “That’s when I learned I was a shameful burden to the grandparents my mother had dumped me on.”
Her hand touched his briefly in comfort. “But you did not have an older brother, did you?”
He shook his head. “I was a lonely only. Just as well, since my grandparents didn’t even want to be stuck with me, much less another bastard to care for.”
“Do not use that word,” she said fiercely, eyes flashing, surprising him. “There is no such thing as a bastard child. Only bastard parents. If there is a sin, it is the sin of the parents. Children are innocent. They cannot help being born—they have no choice in the matter.”
Trace turned his hand so that it was clasping hers. Startled, she tried to draw her hand away, but he held tight. Slowly he raised her hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss into the palm. “Thanks, Princess.” His voice was husky, the words a caress. Her hand was on the small side for a woman as tall as she was, and delicate. But his lips felt the calluses on her palm, and he knew where the calluses came from—she was no pampered princess, as he’d known in a corner of his heart almost from the beginning. It had just taken him a while to accept it.
Her breath caught when his lips traveled from her palm to her wrist, and he could feel her pulse quicken under his caress. His pulse quickened, too, and an urgent desire swept through him to pull her into his arms, to taste those soft, vulnerable, slightly parted lips. But he didn’t. Slowly, reluctantly, he let her hand go.
“I...I have made a life for myself,” she said raggedly, and he knew she was as affected by him as he was by her. “It is not the one most people think. But I do not care about that.” Her face was solemn and her green eyes darkened. “I learned early to downplay my resemblance to my mother, especially as I grew older. It only made my father resent me all the more—salt in his wounds, I think is what you say here.” A haunted expression crept into her eyes, but after a minute she shook it off and continued.
“And Andre looks out for me, truly he does. Things are not so good in my country right now. The monarchy is under attack from certain factions because of the changes Andre is trying to implement. It was Andre’s idea I come here for a year, to get away from the danger. He knows I am a target no matter where I go in Zakhar, because there are people within my country who would use me for their own purposes. The military remains loyal to him for the most part, but even there...”
Her lips tightened. “There is always a chance that this man is not loyal, or that man carries a secret agenda. Even within my own household, within my own bodyguards, who can say for sure?” Her eyes met his. “There have been two attempts to assassinate Andre since he ascended the throne. The second attempt I was standing right next to my brother when the would-be assassin drew a gun and aimed it. He was killed by Andre’s bodyguards before he could open fire, but still...”
Trace nodded at the confirmation of what he’d wondered about the first night he’d deliberately set off the estate’s alarm—the princess had faced danger before. And while she wasn’t sanguine about it, it didn’t paralyze her with fear either.
“That is why Andre insisted your government provide protection for me while I am here,” she continued. “That fear for me is always there. Not for himself—he is a man who will always be stronger than anyone who goes against him, and he would never be afraid for himself. But he is vulnerable where I am concerned.”
She drew a sharp breath. “I do not want that for him. He is a good king for Zakhar—he could even be a great king. He is not my father’s son in that respect. He cares passionately about what is best for our country, even if it is unpopular with the people. Someday they will see that, but until then...”
“Until then, you’re in danger.”
“Yes. Both of us. So Andre sent me here. He had the leverage to bend your government to his will, to ensure my safety, and so...” She shrugged.
