Court of Flowers (Sutherland Book 1)

XXVIII | Dark Corners

Sasha had hoped to get something from West after she revealed a part of her past, but she did not expect him to reveal such secret with so much ease. As if he had not been hiding it at all.

Could he be lying?

Could it be that he was manipulating her? If so, for what? If she believed him and think that the current monarchy had a good reason to want his sister dead, then she would make more effort to help him find his sister—so he could save her.

She looked at him, wide-eyed. But surely, he could not be lying?

If she took his words, then Sasha had more things to think about.

Could it be that the prince was also looking for the bastard of his father? To hide her? Kill her? Because her very existence could ruin the king. Was this the prince's ultimate purpose—stop West from finding his sister by finding her first?

But the prince had a special relationship with Belcourt.

Didn't Belcourt know?

Or was Belcourt playing the same game?

"You seem surprised. I had assumed you would have already guessed."

He said it so nonchalantly, so naturally, making her unsure whether to believe him or not.

But now was not the time to think hard. She would think about that later when he was no longer there to distract her.

"I am not that wise," she finally replied with a subtle wink. And in a more serious tone, added, "I assumed Reginald."

"Then you assumed wrong. My mother, as my father claimed, was too faithful to Belcourt. She would never have associated herself with Reginald."

Sasha inspected his expression. "Do you abhor the current monarchy?"

It took him a while to answer. "No, I do not think so."

"You do not? Surely, you have suffered because of what your father did and those loyal to the current monarchy must have made it certain that you did."

"My father did what he did for the previous monarchy. I am still a duke, am I not? I was—we—were never stripped of everything considering who my father served or what he did for Reginald during his reign."

She leaned away from the table and pulled her legs up to hug them and rested her chin on her knees. "I wonder how you have suffered. It must have been quite difficult."

He shook his head. "I was... sheltered. I was rich—still am." He smiled. "But I do admit it has been a struggle."

"You rebuilt your father's name."

"No, of course not. He is still very much hated even in his grave." With a shrug, he added, "I built my own name."

Her smile widened. "Can you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"Of your childhood. The happy ones."

His brows fused together in a frown. "I cannot precisely point out a point in my life where I was happy, Sasha. Happiness is for those who have nothing else."

A shiver ran up her spine. "Then you are saying you are content?"

"If I am, I would not be here with you at this hour."

She flushed. "That is not what I meant."

West chuckled as he shook his head. "I do not know what you are asking, Sasha. Happiness has never been truly a goal."