Page 36 of The Royal Art of Revenge

I don’t move.

I don’t speak.

I barely even breathe.

“Is the reason you cannot answer those questions because you were forced into signing an agreement like the one we mentioned earlier?”

This time, I open my eyes, steel my spine, and look her directly in the eye.

“That lying bas—”

“Mother,” Crown Prince Finley says, reaching out to touch her arm. His gaze has left me and is now focused on the table, but his head is lowered and his fingers are sunk deep into his dark hair.

The Queen’s nostrils flare as she takes a deep breath. She looks at me, and a raw vulnerability shines in her sharp gaze. “If you’re lying to me, young lady…”

“The day the rebels invaded the palace and the Crown Prince subsequently escaped his kidnapper, he was found by a young girl with blonde hair wearing blue shorts and a yellow t-shirt. They met in the woods where she’d been feeding a stray cat. It was a grey cat with one eye and a docked tail,” I say quietly. “The Crown Prince was wearing a red jumper, but he returned home without it, because he offered it to the girl when she was cold. She was told she’d be rewarded for helping him hide, and she was excited because the Queen promised she’d host her eighth birthday party—”

“—in the palace,” Crown Prince Finley echoes. “But she never got that party. She disappeared six months later.”

I press my lips together. “Did you at least go and feed the cat after she disappeared?”

He rubs his hand down his face, his eyes almost glassy with shock. “Better. He lived here for a year until he died of old age.”

“That’s good, at least.”

“Oh, God.” The Queen covers her face with her hands, resting her elbows on the table. “I can’t…”

Rowan whispers in her ear, then clears his throat and moves towards me. “Miss… Sinclair? Perhaps we should give Her Majesty some space. I’ll escort you to another room, if you don’t mind.”

I stand, and the chair seems to scream against the old hardwood floor as I push it back. “I’m sorry,” I say across the table.

She shakes her head, her face still hidden. Crown Prince Finley merely stares at me as if he’s seen a ghost, like he can’t quite believe the truth that’s just placed itself in front of him.

Rowan offers me a kind smile as he ushers me out of the room, and I throw one last glance over my shoulder before he closes the door behind me.

“Am I in trouble?” I ask quietly, walking alongside him.

“No. Far from it,” he replies. “Her Majesty has waited for this a long time. She merely needs to gather her emotions. I think it’s best you stay nearby for a little longer. I’m sure she or His Royal Highness will want to speak with you against today once they’ve accepted the news.”

I nod, and he leads me into a room that’s a little smaller than the one we were just in. It’s more of a living room than the dining-esque space we were just occupying.

“Please, make yourself comfortable. Someone will be outside the door if you need anything.” Rowan motions for me to sit down.

“Are they there to help me, or make sure I don’t disappear?”

He smiles, and a little chuckle escapes him. “Forgive me, miss, but you’ve already disappeared once—it’s best to keep tabs on you right now.”

“Fair enough.” I can’t help but return his smile, even though mine is a lot tighter than his. “Could someone bring my things? I’ll work on the portraits while I wait.”

He bows his head as he backs out of the room, and I take that as a yes.

The door clicks shut.

I lean back on the sofa, stare at the ceiling, and take the deepest breath I possibly can.

I did it.

I fucking did it.