The King’s whole face went pale for a beat, and in the next, he became very red, like he might explode.
Julian let the lie linger for far longer than was comfortable, until the King seemed like he might choke to death on it.
Then Julian laughed, and said, “Just kidding! Nicholas isn’t the father, sorry!”
He pulled me away then, quickly, before the King could recover.
The servant, concerned for his King, rushed to his side, leaving our escape open.
Out in the hallway, Julian pulled out of one royal room and into another. This one wasn’t quite so elaborate, likely a prince’s personal chambers. Yet it seemed far too organized and clean to belong to Julian.
A television was on overtop of a sofa. I thought I heard Nicholas’s voice, but Julian spoke louder and closer, straight in my ear.
