‘Yes. New.’ Amalia stood stiffly and didn’t quite meet his eyes. ‘It doesn’t bother you?’
Felipe shrugged. ‘Not at all.’
Yet Amalia didn’t seem relieved by his unperturbed reaction. ‘Could I get a tattoo, then? You’d be cool with it?’
‘That would be illegal at this point because you’re too young.’ Felipe’s expression turned solemn. ‘But when you’re older? It’s your body, Amalia. Your rules.’
Elsie’s heart thudded.
Amalia stared at him for a second. ‘You’re so annoying.’
She turned and stomped across the room towards the stage.
Elsie couldn’t suppress a sympathetic smile as Felipe watched her go with a mystified expression. Then he glanced at Elsie.
‘It wouldn’t have mattered what you said,’ she said softly. ‘She’s thirteen. And she’s had a hard time. It’s normal to push back.’
He didn’t reply and for a moment she thought she’d overstepped the mark.
But then he sighed. ‘I don’t want to be anyone’s gaoler.’
Something tightened within Elsie. ‘You’re the ultimate authority figure around here, pretty hard to avoid that.’
He glanced up at the ceiling for a second and there it was again, the glimpse of conflict and confusion, of human.
Elsie couldn’t resist unbending. ‘For what it’s worth, boundaries are good. And I thought yours was a good response.’
‘She ambushed you too, didn’t she? I saw your face.’ He suddenly smiled. ‘You thought I was going to blame you for the earrings, but she hadn’t confided in you. Which puts you in the overprotective adult camp with me.’
He was irritatingly astute and she didn’t want to be bracketed with him in any kind of camp. ‘What’s your tattoo, then?’
He shot her a startled look.
‘If it’s your body, your rules...’ She leaned a little closer. ‘What have you got—a quote? Your favourite animal?’
‘There’s no tattoo.’
‘No? Not even someplace private? No piercings either?’ She blinked at him innocently. ‘Because?’
The muscle in his jaw flexed. ‘I think you know the answer already.’
‘Because you’re the King?’ she mocked, enjoying herself immensely. ‘So serious, so important. So there’s one set of rules for Amalia and another for you?’
‘Absolutely. But I’m the last who’ll live by those rules here. Amalia doesn’t. She gets her liberty.’
‘But not you?’ She cocked her head. ‘Why can’t you have the same freedom of self-expression? Don’t you get to be a man—or are you only a king?’
He stepped close and she suddenly realised what a challenge she’d issued. Magnetised, she struggled to read the swirl of emotion in his eyes—aggravation? Amusement?
‘What’s yours?’ he asked too softly. ‘More to the point, where’s yours? Someplace very private?’
He was so close he stole all the oxygen and she couldn’t think to answer anything but honestly. ‘I don’t have one.’
‘So you’re all talk.’ He laughed—a breath of light amusement. ‘Barely a rebel at all.’
That was very true. ‘Amalia was right,’ Elsie muttered weakly. ‘You’re so annoying.’
She followed Amalia’s flounce across the room.