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How powerless I was against the might of a lord’s reputation. How would my reputation stand up against a prince? I already know the answer to that—it wouldn’t stand a chance.
I want to tell Prince Silas about every part of my past and every doubt swirling in my mind, and I want him to understand. A part of me knows he would understand—but I can’t find the right words. How do I tell him that I’ve denied myself countless things, just because I thought having them would label me a hypocrite? I’ve stopped myself from buying jewelry and nice clothes, from eating in expensive restaurants. I’ve never had a facial or a massage, all because I thought having them would taint my feelings about the monarchy and elitism.
But…these things are nice. It feels good to be special, if only for a night.
Instead of spilling my thoughts to him, though, I answer with a question: “Why don’t you want to make a speech tonight? Why do you always seem to hate doing the things you’re supposed to do?”
We reach the end of the hallway, where tall double doors lead outside. Silas opens the door on the left, and a blast of cool air makes me shiver. In an instant, he’s sliding his jacket off and wrapping it around my arms. I almost protest, but it feels… Oh, how can I explain it? It’s warm and cozy and it smells like him. The pit of my stomach tightens as delicious little sparks flood my veins. As the silk lining of his jacket slides over my prickling skin, I wonder what it would feel like to have his hands on my arms. His skin against mine. His mouth…
I need to freaking stop.
I force a smile, trying to hide the riot currently going on inside my body and forcing myself not to clench my thighs together. I should be in control of my own body, but it’s so easy to forget myself around Silas. The way his blue eyes deepen when he looks at me makes my whole body light up. It doesn’t feel like I’m walking beside a prince, it feels like I’m walking beside the first man who actually understands me.
I nod my head in thanks and pull the jacket tight. Silas puts his hand on my lower back, on that same spot as the first night we met. It’s like his body remembers, just like mine does. We fit together. He leads me through the well-manicured gardens behind Farcliff Castle. His closeness is everything I want, even though I shouldn’t. I like the way he puts his hands on me. How he takes care of me, makes sure I’m warm and safe and protected. All I want to do is crawl into his arms and stay there forever.
But I force myself to look at our surroundings. I’ve never been to the Farcliff Castle grounds—obviously. It looks like an army of gardeners spends countless hours here. There’s not a leaf out of place. The whole garden is bathed in moonlight. Every blade of grass has a silver sheen, and the stillness of the air feels almost otherworldly. The trees are mostly bare now, with only a sprinkling of brown and yellow and red leaves on the ground. They must have raked up the rest of them.
We walk in silence for a few steps, circling around an empty fountain, before Silas speaks. “I hate doing speeches because I’m dyslexic,” he says simply.
I frown. “What?”
Grinning, Silas throws me a roguish glance. “Didn’t read that about me in your research, either?”
“You act like all I do is read up about you.” I roll my eyes.
“Don’t you?”
“You’re an arrogant ass.”
He laughs. “A dyslexic arrogant ass.” His smile fades, and he stares at the starry sky above us. The moon is full, hanging low in the sky. “It was difficult when I was younger. I didn’t understand it. School was…hard. All the other kids knew I was royalty, and they teased me mercilessly about my reading ability. Well, lack of ability.” Smiling sadly, he kicks a stone off the path as we walk. “My sister was a borderline genius, Jonah was the star of the debate club, and Wolfe was basically a royal jock. I was the runt. Am the runt.”
I start making a noise, but Silas just smiles at me, shaking his head. “It’s true. My siblings were better than me in every single way. At that time, a couple decades ago, people didn’t really know about dyslexia the way they do now. It affected everything with me—my ability to remember things, problem-solving, reading, speaking. And the bullying only made it worse.”
“That’s why you were pulled out of class and homeschooled?”
“You have been reading up on me.” His smile is teasing, but his eyes are still dark. With a sigh, he continues. “With the help of specialists, I was able to graduate from high school and get my diploma. But I…” Silas shakes his head. “I think I acted out as a defense mechanism. I was so used to people calling me dumb, broken, defective, that I just figured I’d prove them right. If I acted up in class and in public, if I drank and behaved like a screw-up, then no one could make fun of me. It was on my terms. My actions were my own, and they weren’t caused by some little snot-nosed bully calling me illiterate. So, that’s what I did. In school, then even more when I was homeschooled. I started drinking when I was sixteen, partying, tried drugs when I was eighteen. I know I was out of control. I mostly mellowed out after a few years, but the reputation stayed—and I guess the tabloids need something to print every day, so why not print my face.”
“To be fair, for them to print photos of you drinking with a new woman every night, you have to actually be drinking with a new woman every night,” I counter, arching a brow.
Silas laughs, shrugging. “Not necessarily. I’ve seen photos from years ago reprinted as if they’d just happened. A lot of the things they say about me are lies. I’m not saying I’ve been an angel.”
“Does the Queen know?” I ask. “About the dyslexia? Did she know you would struggle on this tour?”
“She knows,” Silas says. “But I don’t think she really understands—and I probably haven’t done myself any favors with all the bad press I’ve created. I…” He bites his lip. “I don’t really talk about it with my family. With anyone. She probably would have given me more help if I’d asked for it, but I…I guess I’m just a coward. I don’t ask for help because I’m afraid of being pitied.”
It’s shocking to me that Prince Silas is so…self-aware. So open. He’s not denying his actions or telling me that he deserves to party and grace the cover of tabloids. It’s just an explanation of who he is. What he’s been through.
The Prince takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “You know the first night we met, at that party?”
I nod.
“When I realized who you were, my heart just sank, but not because you want to abolish the monarchy and you hate my family.”
“I don’t hate—“
“You just hate what we stand for,” he says, smiling sadly. “I know. But I realized who you were and I just felt so completely inadequate in your presence. Because you’re right, Jazz. I have no right to be here, lording over everyone else. People shouldn’t be bowing to me and calling me highness. I’m the dumbest person in that room, and they want me to stand up in front of them and pretend I’m not.” He snorts, shaking his head. “When I realized who you were, I felt so fucking stupid, because…I am stupid. I’ll never be an intellectual. Not in the way you are.”
“That’s not…” I trail off, heart squeezing. “What about Lady Connaught? She didn’t seem to think you were dumb.”
