A dull, heated ache radiated through my jaw. I'd regained consciousness in worse places than this cold stone floor, but not by much. At least there was a bench in the palace dungeon, and torchlight, flickering from a sconce on the other side of my bars, and a pot to piss in.
Such luxury.
I probed my jaw with my tongue. Nothing felt broken, only bruised.
I dragged myself off the floor, staggered to the bench, and sprawled on my back. Water dripped from the stained ceiling, plinking into puddles.
I couldn't have been out for long. It was likely still the same night, or early morning.
Somewhere in the palace above me, Rowan would have gathered his advisors, doctors would have arrived, the queen's body may already have been discreetly moved and placed in the nearby house of rest.
Once the shock wore off, accusations would fly, and clearly, I was the favored guilty party. Someone had accused me, perhaps some jealous scrote who I'd snubbed at some point.
I had a day or two to plead my innocence before the king shipped me off to the Court of Justice.
And Henrietta was dead? It didn't seem possible. Had some accident befallen her after I'd left her chamber? She'd been intoxicated but otherwise well enough, hadn't she? But if it was an accident, why had the guards come for me?
It would work out. It always did. I just had to play the right cards.
The iron doors clanged, keys clattered. I expected to see the king standing at my cell bars, or at least Gideon, his advisor. I did not expect to turn my head and see Prince Rafe.
I blinked at him. Had I dreamed him up? He looked like a dream in the flickering torchlight. He had his mother's fair complexion, with a spray of near-invisible freckles. He'd tied his hair up in a brutal tail. If set free it would tumble about his shoulders like spun gold. Eyes so pale a blue, they were almost silver.
And right now, Rafe wore the nonchalant gaze perfected by all royals. Unreadable. Untouchable. So high above me, he barely acknowledged my existence.
But while his expression was guarded, the rest of him radiated hate, perhaps a hint of disgust too.
The feeling was mutual. Mostly.
Well no, that wasn't true. I didn't know him, he'd made sure of that. I knew only what I'd been told. He was weak, although he didn't look it, physically. In fact, he appeared to be sturdier than I. In the four years since we'd met, he'd grown into his body, filled out, become more of a man and less of his mother's pretty boy. Color me intrigued.
I laced my hands behind my head and lifted my gaze back toward the ceiling.
Most people would have knelt and sniveled and begged for their freedom. I'd never begged and wasn't about to start now. This unfortunate situation wouldn't last. I didn't need him, or his lofty sneering. I had the king in my pocket. When Rowan came to the dungeon, this would all be dealt with and I'd walk free.
"I know what you are," Rafe said, in a clipped voice. Rafe did not growl; he didn't need to. His voice had changed too. Deepened, as was natural. Four years had rarely felt so long. The prince was a stranger to me, and to his own court.
Odd, that he should emerge now. His mother's death must have rattled him from his chamber.
"What I am? Devilishly handsome? Blisteringly intelligent?" I examined my nails. "The subject of your dreams?"
"If I were to dream of you, Fool, those dreams would not end well."
"My name is Levi. I hope you don't mind my reminding you, as you appear to have forgotten."
"You're nothing."
So dramatic. I rolled my eyes and fixed the prince in my gaze again. Gold buckles punctuated his pristine white attire. He looked like a cake, accented with delicate gold icing. Pretty icing often hid a multitude of sins.
As he was here, and speaking with me, a minor miracle all of its own, I'd play his game. "How am I 'nothing,' fair prince?"
"It's your greatest fear, isn't it?" He wrapped white-gloved fingers around the rusted bars. "That we'll all discover how truly mediocre you are. You cannot bear to be ignored."
My lips twitched into a smile. "Interesting. I'd assumed I'd barely featured in your existence." I swung my legs off the bench and sat up, fixing him in my sights. "Yet how would you know my greatest fear unless you've been watching me? And not just watching me. You've been paying attention."
He turned his face away, exposing the flickering in his cheek, betraying his clenched jaw. What would his skin feel like beneath my fingers? As soft as rose petals, like those sneering lips would be soft? Until he had my hand cut off for daring to touch him.
I'd heard rumors he was a kind prince, full of laughter, his mother's joy. Hm, he wasn't kind now. But he wouldn't sever hands. That wasn't the Court of Love's way. I'd probably earn myself a vicious slap, and it might be worth it.
I'd forgotten how blisteringly beautiful Prince Rafe was.
Four years had hardened him, and hardened parts of me too.
"You despise us," he said, still banging the same drum.
Despise was a strong word. Although, he was likely right, but did he know he was right, or was it a guess?
I kept my smile on my lips even as my heart beat even faster. "What makes you believe that?"
"You belittle and ridicule my family, my court. Our lives are a joke to you."
Goodness, for a man I'd met once, the vicious hate was strong within him. So strong in fact, I could almost taste it. Hate like that, it was rare, and special, and did not stem from a single meeting. He couldn't know who I really was, could he?
"Never mistake my jesting for truth. I merely—" I waved a hand. "— entertain."
"But it's true, that's why you're so good at spinning tales, you believe them. My father's an idiot, my mother a whore, and me—"
"The prince so hideously ugly he's afraid to leave his chamber?" I stood and approached him. He unwrapped his fingers from the bars and lifted his chin, defiant and proud. He didn't retreat. We'd never been so close.
And he was far from ugly. Or hideous. In fact, he might be the most beautiful creature in the Court of Love, besides me. "Where's the truth in that tale, when you're the second most handsome man in this dungeon?" I asked.
"Ugly cannot always be seen behind a mask," he said, softening a little. Golden lashes fluttered. There was truth in those words. They may have been the first whole truth he'd spoken since entering the dungeon. Interesting. "You don't know me."
No, but I wished I did, even now, as he sneered as though I was something he should scrape from his boot. I wanted him to see me, to know me.
He was right. I thrived on attention, on love and hate and all the emotions in between, so long as I was its focus. And when he left here, when he walked away, I'd crave his company, crave him, despite the disgust, or perhaps because of it.
Four years he'd been the Prince Behind the Door, and now he was here. I almost reached through the bars to touch him, to see if he was real. "You'd think the Court of Love would have an abundance of love, yet it is the most bleak and empty court of all. You're the proof of that. Unloved, forgotten, exiled to his room. Why do you hide?"
He didn't look away this time, because we both knew I was right. I saw that which he could not, and he somehow saw the truth of me beneath my endless efforts to hide it. The prince and the fool, with bars between us.
His lashes fluttered closed, his tongue stroked his top lip, and he stepped back. The bars were a good thing; without them, I might have inappropriately kissed him to spark a fire in him.
"You'll be executed for what you've done," he said stiffly.
"Perhaps." I smiled and grasped the bars, plastering myself to them, trying to get closer. "But you know I'm innocent."
"'Innocent'?" He laughed, and the sound echoed around us, bringing light to the darkest of places. "You are far from that." He turned away with a sweep of his white-fur-lined cloak and headed toward the steps.
"You claim to know me," I said, raising my voice, "so you know I wouldn't hurt Henrietta ."
He stopped, one boot on the stair's first riser. "Oh, I know."
"Then tell the king, tell him I didn't do this."
"And why would I do that?" He peered over his shoulder, silver eyes shining. "When I was the one who told him you did."
He climbed the steps and the dungeon door slammed like the tolling of the execution bell.
I stared after the prince, stunned in both heart and mind.
My lies could withstand much, but not the word of a prince. The hangman's noose had gotten much closer.