Chapter 11
Frankie
We're on the loveseat, curled up together. Franz is long gone. The movie is playing silently over our heads.
“I was twelve when I found out,” Benedict says. “Overhearing an argument between my mother and the man I thought was my father. He always preferred Franz to me,” he adds in a lower voice, almost as if he's talking to himself. “I always wondered why.”
I squeeze his hand after a moment, bringing him back to me. “You must have been devastated.”
His lips curve in a self-mocking grimace. “You should laugh at me. I was born with every avenue open to me. I was already in training to be Crown Prince—in case my aunt died and my mother became queen. Although, it was expected—not spoken of but hinted at—that my aunt would outlive my mother. My mother was wild even then.
