King Riccardo was back, again. Matteo wanted nothing more than ask him what he was doing in Northern Italy again, but instead, he had to sit through dinner and smile at him as if he was his favourite guest. At least this time, he hadn’t yet made any stupid remarks about Emma. She seemed to have forgotten how he made her feel last time, and laughed at her uncle’s jokes. Matteo cut through his steak with more force than needed, grinding his teeth together to keep from saying something he would regret.
“You know this cow is already dead, yes?” Altea whispered next to him.
Father called her this afternoon to request her presence at dinner, which she’d missed the last couple of days. Matteo asked her why she kept coming home late, but she evaded his questions, mumbling something about school
