Ilona exhaled in relief when someone finally broke up the fight. It was Prince Haydn. He might be only six, too, but he was the king’s legitimate son and heir, so of course the children listened to him.
She watched as Haydn helped Devlin to his feet and said something, but Devlin ignored it and stormed away, blood still running down his split lip. To his credit, his bullies didn’t look any better.
A short while later, the door opened and Devlin entered her room. Ilona wasn’t surprised. He always came to her when he was hurt or upset or angry. She might not be his nanny anymore, but Ilona knew she was the only person the little boy trusted in the whole palace. It was both heartwarming and disheartening.
“Let me see it,” she said, making him sit down.
They were silent while she treated his lip and bruised knuckles, Devlin’s eyes on his hands. She’d lost count of how many times this had happened.
“What happened this time?” she finally said, though she could guess. She often heard other children calling him a beast and a filthy animal—insults that Devlin could never take well.
Devlin just shrugged sullenly, his jaw clenching.
Ilona sighed and knelt down in front of him. “Sweetheart,” she said softly, tipping his face up so he would look at her. “You know fighting won’t change anything. You’re only proving them right by attacking them. Don’t let them see that their insults bother you. Don’t let them get to you. I know it seems like fighting is your only choice, but it isn’t.”
His beautiful green eyes were disturbingly dry. He never cried, no matter how upset he was. It worried her sometimes.
“Then what can I do?” he said hoarsely. “They’ll win if I let them get away with it.”
She tucked a wavy lock of black hair away from his eyes. “Be patient. One day, you’ll change the world—I know you can do it. You’re so strong and smart. But for that to happen, you need to be patient. Treat it like a…” She paused, searching for an analogy he would understand. For all his intelligence, he was still just a little boy. “Treat it like a game,” she said at last, kissing him on the forehead. “A game in which you follow their rules and trick them into believing that you’re just like them. It’s the only way you can survive in this pit of snakes.”
Devlin stared at her without saying anything, his eyes much older than any child should have. It made her heart hurt.
“I know it’s not fair,” she said with a shaky smile that felt more like a grimace. “But we don’t live in a fair world. I know people look down on you for what you are and who you are.” Some emotion flickered over his face at the unspoken acknowledgment of his illegitimate status. Ilona hugged him. “It is unfair,” she whispered, her heart aching for him. He was a son of the king, after all. How must he feel, being treated like dirt while his half-brother was adored and respected by everyone? She sighed, squeezing his small body in her arms. “But you can make it better, one day. I know you can. But for now, you need to guard your heart and emotions. Let them see only what they’re comfortable seeing.”
Devlin pulled back and averted his gaze. But from the thoughtful expression on his face, she could tell that he understood what she meant.
It would be years before Ilona would realize just how much he had taken her advice to heart.
It would be too late.
Chapter 9
“Jules, enough. You’re being ridiculous.”
Jules spluttered, glaring at his dumbass brother. “Me? I’m telling you that Westcliff is just using you for his political agenda, and I’m being ridiculous?”
Liam rolled his eyes. “Yes, you’re being ridiculous. You’ve been ranting about him for an hour, but I don’t see any problem with his actions. There’s nothing wrong with caring about what people would think of our courtship. It would be worse if he didn’t care. He’s a future king, after all.” Liam smiled dreamily. “Can you imagine me as a king’s consort?”
“Agh!” Jules said in frustration, throwing a decorative pillow at Liam’s head. “Are you even listening to me? He isn’t just caring about people’s opinions! That’s the sole reason he’s courting you!”
“I’m sure it isn’t. He was very charming and attentive when we danced.”
Jules pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled loudly. “I’m sure he was,” he bit off. “But it’s fake, Li. Look…” He walked over to Liam and sat down next to him. Taking his brother’s shoulders into his hands, Jules said, looking him in the eyes, “I know what he said wasn’t anything terrible, but it’s how he said it I have a problem with. It was like looking at a different person: cold, calculating, and heartless. He said that ‘you’ll do,’ as if he were buying a thing. How can you be okay with it? Are you so blinded by his looks and title? You deserve better. Don’t you want a husband who’ll love you?”