“Greta, you know if I’m going to play a role, I play it well,” he said, straightening his collar and then standing up beside Nya.

“Yes, a regular Daniel Day-Lewis,” she said, clapping her hands together. “I’ve come to discuss the Njaza organization?”

Nya didn’t look at him, but nodded toward Greta. “I’m Nya Jerami. It is a pleasure to meet you, though I would’ve preferred less embarrassing circumstances.”

“No worries. I work very closely with Johan, so it would take a lot to shock me,” Greta said.

“I see,” Nya said. “Yes, I imagine you’re used to this kind of behavior.”

She let go of his hand, and clasped her own.

“I actually have to go check my phone, I’m expecting a message,” she said. “I’ll leave you to your business.”

“Nya,” Johan said, and she stopped mid-rush to the door. He wanted to ask if the message she was expecting was from her mystery man, but that would be absurd. It would make it seem like she owed him the information, when she didn’t owe him anything.

“Do you know how to get to my room?” he asked instead.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s next door to mine. Which is where I’ll be. Have a good meeting.”

“Do you like the opera, Ms. Jerami?” Greta asked, and Nya paused again. “The last showing of Rusalka at the Royal Liechtienbourg Theater is in two weeks. It’s a lovely performance, and it would make an excellent official engagement outing, just before the referendum.”

Johan grimaced against the sudden jet of anxiety at the idea of watching Rusalka with Nya. “I’d rather not.”

Greta looked perplexed. “It’s your favorite. Don’t you think it would be odd if you missed the performance? Everyone already expects you to attend. Is there some reason you don’t want to go?”

He glanced at Nya. She was standing stiffly and looking at the ground, her demeanor drastically different from moments ago. “It’s fine, if you do not want to fuel any more gossip.”

“No, it’s not that.” He couldn’t very well tell her what his problem was.

“Jah, Johan loves fueling gossip, so it must be something else.”

Johan glared at Greta.

“It’s nothing,” he said, straightening the lapels of his jacket. Besides, I’ll be giving Nya a tour of the city later today and we’ll be making the rounds before next week. Plenty of gossip will be fueled.”

Nya tried to smile, but her eyes held a wariness that Johan hated.

“Jo-Jo. As your assistant I have to tell you that it will reflect badly on the family if you skip this pre-referendum event.”

“You’re right.” Johan grimaced. “Save the Royal Box for us then.”

“Excellent,” Greta said.

“Great,” Nya added, and now she was the one using the Phokojoe voice she’d teased him over. She didn’t sound enthused at all.

“Perfect,” Greta said, oblivious. “You will need a dress for the opera, so I’ll make an appointment with the modiste for tomorrow. There hasn’t been a woman in the palace for some time, so I know she’ll be quite excited to meet you.”

“Thank you,” Nya said, and rushed out the door before they could stop her again.

“Not your usual type,” Greta remarked as soon as the door shut.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Johan asked irritably.

“You actually seem to like her. That’s gutt, ja?”

“Not at all,” Johan said, rubbing his temples. “Not in the slightest.”

Greta looked at him for a moment then shrugged. “Right. Okay, I’m going to need some more information about the land mine detection systems you linked me to.”

Johan could deal with that. Helping to get rid of a legacy of tragedy would take his mind off of Nya, and the fact that she would be gone soon, which would be a different kind of tragedy but only for him.

“Let’s get to work,” he said.

Chapter 13

ONE TRUE PRINCE, MESSAGE FROM: HANJO

I can’t stop thinking of you, even while plotting the downfall of the monarchy. I have to be careful, so as not to raise suspicions, or else I would come to you right now. Are you thinking of me, too? Give me a sign!

Nya sighed and closed out of the game without responding. Hanjo was annoying her with his neediness, in part because Johan was annoying her with his Johan-ness.

They were faking this engagement. They’d told the people most important to them that they were faking it, and that was part of the fun for her—it was a virtual dating game come to life. That was what she had wanted! But did he have to be so cavalier about it?

It hadn’t felt fake, the way he’d kissed her, touched her . . . she was inexperienced, not insensible. The way he’d leaned into her caress, the desire to please her in his eyes before he’d pulled her into his lap—that had been real. But so had his talk of playing roles, and his dismay at the idea of appearing at the opera with her. The truth was she’d only had one bad kiss before him. Maybe Johan kissed everyone like that.

Johan lies all the time and doesn’t care about anything but appearances, Lukas had warned her. Johan had admitted as much to her himself. Still, her inner compass that had always pointed away from Thesolo and toward a place that would make her happy had stopped spinning wildly and was pointed at an annoying playboy prince. Because she was a dreamer, and a fool.