THIRTY-THREE
Bianca caught Vasco stealing glances at her last night when she wore the ornate silk dress her sisters had insisted upon, but today he'd gone back to not meeting her eyes again. As though he fancied himself a servant, and not the rightful lord of the Summer Palace. Which he was, now, by her father's own conditions. Never mind that Cousin Efe had rejected his claim to have solved the mystery – Bianca knew he had.
Even the drab clothes she'd donned today did little to dispel his servility. Sure, she was a princess, but she was a woman first. Last night, he'd looked like he recognised that. Now, she wasn't so certain. Still, if he called her Bee, just the once...
He took her down to the beach that last night had been littered with lantern-lit pleasure boats, but now only held
