Jacob stepped protectively in front of me. “Your Highness, this is hardly the appropriate time—”
“I wasn't asking, Young Master Jacob,” Thorne cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Your sister and I have matters to discuss.”
Gianna's face contorted with barely concealed jealousy. “Your Highness.” She curtsied deeply, her voice so sickly sweet, it almost gave me a cavity. “Please accept our deepest condolences for your father's passing.”
Thorne barely spared her a glance. “Lady Gianna. Your... concern is noted.”
I snorted and headed toward Thorne. “What’s up?”
He furrowed his brows, not understanding my lingo as he glanced up at the sky and then back at me. “Uh… always refreshing to see you, Lady Arya.” He cleared his throat. “Is there somewhere private we may speak?”
Jacob sidled closer to me. “Arya, you don’t have to—”
I waved him off. “It’s all good. Tell Father I’ll be in shortly.”
Hesitantly, Jacob nodded and ushered both Gianna and a reluctant Maeve inside. Once they were gone, Thorne motioned for us to head deeper into the gardens, and I followed.
“Shouldn’t you be in mourning? Like, at the palace by your father’s side or dealing with politics and shit?” I asked with furrowed brows.
Thorne chuckled. “Such a straight shooter. That’s what I like about you, Arya. You get to the point. But yes, I should be, but I wanted to speak with you. As you may have heard, our wedding has been… postponed.”
I nodded. “Thank the Immortals.” I swept my gaze to the sky and lifted prayer hands.
Thorne sent me a glare I’m sure he thought I didn’t see, but I saw it.
“Please try to contain your enthusiasm, Lady Arya,” Thorne gritted between his teeth.
I chuckled. “Apologies, Your Highness,” I bowed mockingly. “Or should I say Your Majesty now?” I raised a brow.
He cleared his throat and straightened a little, making himself seem taller. “Soon, Lady Arya, real soon.”
“I guess congratulations are in order,” I murmured. “It’s a shame though, that you had to become emperor this way.”
“Pardon?” He stopped walking and stared at me.
I stopped and peered over at him, smiling innocently. “Well… ascending due to the emperor’s death. And not just a regular death but…” I glanced around the garden and then whispered, “murdered.”
His blue eyes widened and he nervously looked around. “Lady Arya, you should be careful with what you say.”
I shrugged. “I mean, am I lying?”
“Those claims are unfounded,” he said calmly. “Whatever Lord Zacharia has shared, he has no right to—”
I sighed dramatically and looked up at the sky with my hands on my hips. “Trust me, bud, my pops ain’t sharing shit.”
“Wh-What?” he stammered at my informality and unusual terms. Then his eyes hardened. “Damien,” he growled.
“Bingo.” I winked at him and shot him with my finger guns.
“You should know better than to still be in communication with him,” he gritted. “It puts him in danger, you know.”
“Do you plan to kill him? Now that the emperor is dead, are you going to lift his exile like the good brother you are? Or at least the one you pretend to be?”
He narrowed his gaze on me.
“I just think killing Damien seems counterproductive.” I shrugged. “If you did that, then the image of the good brother you’ve spent building over the years will shatter.”
His eyes glittered. “I can always pay to have him killed.”
