“I don’t know why you think I would hurt him, but I appreciate you looking after his well-being,” Nya said. She didn’t know whether to be pissed off or elated or both.

Greta’s phone rang then.

“Oh, it’s Jo-Jo.”

Nya looked at her phone and wondered why he hadn’t texted.

“Hallo? Ah. Vraiment?” Greta had her serious expression on again, and for the next couple of minutes listened and nodded, then responded in rapid-fire Liechtienbourgish.

Her gaze slid to Nya. “It seems that the evening papers are alleging that Johan has been embezzling money into an offshore account.”

Nya frowned. “Johan wouldn’t do such a thing.”

She didn’t think Johan was capable of anything so nefarious, but then again, her father had been doing the same. People would do a lot for money and power.

Even participate in a fake romance to get people to vote for their family in a referendum.

No.

Nya felt anxiety swell in her chest, not at the idea of Johan using her, but at the possibility that she’d never be able to believe he wasn’t, he or any other man.

“Of course, he wouldn’t,” Greta said. “Someone is clearly trying to smear his name.”

“What will we do?”

“We?” Greta raised a brow. “The plans for tonight have changed. Instead of the preshow PR meeting with you and Johan posing for photos, there will be a press conference where he explains what’s going on. No press for you tonight, since we can’t control what people will ask.”

“That’s fine. I just want his name cleared.”

“Right,” Greta said flatly, turning her attention to her phone. She hopped out of the car when they pulled up to the palace and Nya made her way back to her room to get ready for the opera.

Something was nagging her about this situation. It was the same feeling she’d had when her father had been so kind and solicitous to Ledi, trying to win her to his side while plying her with tea he knew would hurt her. Nya hadn’t known for sure, but she’d suspected—and she’d been right.

Nya had protected her cousin as best she could then, and she was stronger now. She would try to figure this out and protect Johan, too. It may have been nothing, and Nya wasn’t always sure what worries were real and which were plain fear after being told to ignore her own thoughts for her entire life, but she knew there was something more to this. She would think on it, and in the meantime, she would make sure Johan had a good night.

Chapter 22

As word spread, all of the other villagers sought Phokojoe out. He would turn into what they desired, and then lure them into his lair, but he found something even sadder than being lonely—that not just any human would do. Some spoke too much, or too little. Some made wild demands, and others hurled curses at him. He always released them after two weeks, and was always glad to see them go. There was one maiden in the village whom Phokojoe had rarely seen. She was kept locked up in the house of her father, who treated her like a rare and fragile flower. On the day she finally came to him, he waited to hear her desire, but instead she laid down a bowl of freshly cooked stew for him and then scurried back home. Phokojoe looked after her, sniffing the food warily. When he tasted it, it was the finest offering he’d ever received.

—From Phokojoe the Trickster God

The last time Johan had given a press conference of this scope was when pictures of his bare ass had shown up in newspapers. He’d explained how it was a private moment, and how he had shamed the people of Liechtienbourg with his bad decisions.

Of course, he’d known a paparazzo was there. Why else would he be walking around bottomless? It was around Lukas’s thirteenth birthday, when the press had started to get more insistent about prying into the boy’s privacy. So Johan had given up his. And he felt more exposed now, forced to provide the information he’d managed to keep secret for so long.

It was just more evidence that in this world of vultures, everything eventually became carrion.

“Are you ready?” Greta whispered beside him, looking tense. She’d been acting a bit strangely since she’d returned from the school with Nya, but he assumed she was out of sorts from having someone rifling through their business affairs.

Directly after the presser he had to survive Rusalka in the royal box. The referendum was in two days. Nya would leave him.

He wasn’t ready for anything.

He nodded and adjusted his bow tie.

“Looking good, Jo-Jo!” That was Krebs, of course. Johan pointed at him. Winked. Tried to feel as carefree as he was acting.

“This will be quick because the opera waits for no one, and Johan believes the arts are integral to society. We will begin by addressing the allegations that appeared in the daily papers today,” Greta said. “It has been alleged that Johan has been engaging in shady business practices, running a shell company to hide his funds from the taxpayers and increase his own wealth.”

“Are the allegations true?” someone called out.

“Of course, they’re not true,” Johan said with a calm he didn’t feel one bit. He flashed a charming smile. “Okay, press conference over.”

A ripple of laughter passed through the assembled journalists.

“The reports are completely false and I am open to an independent investigation to prove so. Thank you.”