“What are you talking about?” he snapped. “Nobody commits crimes simply to become a criminal.”
“Well, I suppose calling it your ‘true’ objective is misleading. But let’s assume your goal is what happens after you are named an enemy of the state.” It had to be just a random guess, but Rishe sounded so sure of herself. “I couldn’t figure it out for the longest time. Why would you go after me of all people? But this theory explains that, and everything else.”
“How? I told you already—I did it to hurt my brother.” Theodore forced a smile. “You’re just dismissed as a hostage inside the palace, but the nation will celebrate you as the crown prince’s bride. And my brother’s reputation would be ruined if he failed to protect you.” Theodore didn’t dare look at Arnold; he couldn’t risk him seeing how shaken he was. “You were far more useful than I could ever have predicted. That’s why I chose now to make my move. I was going to threaten Arnold with your safety and force him to give up his line in the succession!”
“To outsiders, my only value is that I’m the crown prince’s fiancée. His position matters, and nothing more.”
“I suppose.”
“You didn’t possibly think it would work, did you?” Rishe asked. “Using me as a means to force His Highness to hand over his title?”
Her words were humble, but Rishe stood confidently. It didn’t seem to bother her at all that other people saw her as worthless.
“I can say definitively that there was very little value in having me abducted. You’re not stupid. Why did you bother? Was it just to annoy everyone?”
“No,” Theodore said, averting his eyes from Rishe.
“You’ve had next to no official duties as the second prince for the past few years, is that right?”
Rishe was right, much as he wanted to scoff. Theodore had resigned from his professional duties as an imperial prince. Everyone in the palace knew it and that it was by his own choice. His every action was to cultivate a wild and uncontrolled persona so that when people spoke of him, they would say, “There goes the second prince, gallivanting around and sleeping in weird places again!”
“I’ve had a look at the records. You stopped doing charity work in the slums two years ago. You’ve been going there to help out since you were very young. Why stop?”
Theodore shrugged. “I lost interest in it. Charity work is boring. I’d rather nap or do anything else.”
“Another lie,” said Rishe. “You haven’t ever stopped. I saw no traces of public funds being moved—I assume you’ve used your own.”
How many records did she read?!
To a certain extent, records were available to the public in the palace library. They contained what could be called history books at this point, all the way to very recent public finances. Anyone who worked in the palace could read them. But they only listed superficial information. Perhaps one could draw the conclusions Rishe had through careful scrutiny, but not if you didn’t know what you were looking for.
Just who in the world is this woman?!
Rishe continued, “You’ve made every effort to support the people of the slums; you are on very amicable terms. Why, I hear you even took care of an orphan while they were sick—never leaving their side for a moment, holding their hand. Once, you arranged a doctor for a woman who had no one to support her during childbirth, staying with her to offer words of encouragement. You nap all day because you are out all night.”
It almost sounded like she had seen him do this for herself.
Theodore started laughing. “Ha ha ha! You make me out to be quite the saint. But service works both ways—I helped them so they would help me.”
“Those thugs did indeed seem to be under your control.”
“They’re willing to do anything—anything—for money. I courted them to use them, that’s it!”
“They’re under your protection, then,” said Rishe. “You take the criminally desperate under your wing so they’ll have food to eat tomorrow. Am I getting that right?”
Theodore made a strangled noise in his throat.
Rishe continued to gaze at him. “You have affection for the people in the slums. You wish to save them, but you know you lack the power. What I don’t understand is why you feel like you have to do it under the table. Why shirk your duties?”
“Because.” Theodore’s voice stuck. His heart was beating painfully. His brother’s gaze scared him—was Arnold becoming aware of his plot? Theodore couldn’t bear to look at him.
“I don’t think you want to a be a prince,” Rishe went on. “I think you’d prefer to abdicate. Or rather…force yourself from the succession with a desperate plot to kill your brother’s fiancée.”
“As if. I just want what’s his.”
“If that were true, you’d go after Prince Arnold directly, not through me. You must have had countless chances before I arrived.” Theodore sucked in a breath. Rishe ignored him. “But you never tried to hurt him, did you? I believe that everything you do, every choice you make, is for your brother’s sak—”
“No.” The ground seemed to writhe and contort beneath his feet. His heart pounded in his chest, dizziness crowding his mind. Theodore screamed, the world bucking under him. “That’s not true! No, no, no, you’re wrong! Why do you keep talking?!”
All Theodore could do was deny everything she said. He didn’t care if Arnold was here—he couldn’t let her be right. “Fine, if you have to know! I want my brother to hate me! I want him to shun me, to loathe me, to get rid of me! If he can’t accept me like he’s accepted you, then I’d rather just die!”
“Prince Theodore.”
“When he looks at me in anger, I’m so happy. I delight in his disdain! That’s why I did this. That’s all!”
“Your Highness.”
“Shut up!”
Rishe’s voice was repulsively gentle. “What are you afraid of?”
What kind of question is that? It’s like she thinks she’s on my side.
Rishe was looking at him in puzzlement, brows pinched. Slowly, she said, “Perhaps you and I fear the same future.”
He couldn’t imagine this woman fearing anything. “What?”
“Rishe.”
Theodore stiffened at the sound of his brother’s voice.
“That’s enough. Don’t say anything else.”
“But Your Highness—”
“I told you not to speak to him,” Arnold said.
A bead of sweat ran down Theodore’s neck. Nerves crowded his throat, and stinging pain writhed in his chest.
“Your Highness, wait,” Rishe said urgently. “I need to understand.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’ll just lie to you.” Theodore winced at the apathy in Arnold’s voice, though it didn’t come as a surprise.
Did she truly work it all out?
He was paralyzed, his brother’s voice driving in the knife and twisting. “I don’t care what he wants—it doesn’t concern me.”
Theodore made a choked noise and bolted for the door.