The Luna Cure

THIRTY-THREE

"Okay."

He sighed. "We'll backtrack. We're going to have to have this conversation sometime, you know."

I shrugged. "Maybe." But I meant no.

Venice laid her head on her arms on the table and glanced up at me. "Do you live in the castle?"

Max raised his eyebrows, waiting to hear the answer to that as well.

Shoot. Did I have to answer Venice? What if I didn't and she got upset? Could I handle upsetting her? "Uh," I started. Did I even live in the palace? No, not really. But did I live anywhere? I certainly didn't live back at my home, and I escaped Batilda's. I didn't live there, either. I was with Dante basically at all times, and I spent way too much time at the castle.

"I really don't know." I finally finished. Venice furrowed her brows.

"You don't know where you live?" She asked.

I looked over at Max, but he still had that stupid intrigued look. "I—it's..." I sighed. "I don't know. I don't."

"How long have you been at the palace? There's a definitive answer to that one." Max said.

I nodded. "Uh, a month, maybe? I don't know. Dante would. Couldn't be longer than a month."

Max nodded. "So you were with Dante for a month and he only just brought you back."

I shook my head. "No. He didn't know about you until a week ago or something."

Max raised a brow. "He still took a week." I sensed that he was unhappy about this, and I didn't want him to be mad at Dante. Why on earth that mattered to me, I had no clue.

Or maybe I did, I just wanted to ignore it.

"I fought him. I didn't—and don't—want to be here. He thought it would be good for me to come, uh, back, and he kept trying to get me to come here."

Venice frowned. "Why?"

I blinked. "Why what?"

Max shook his head. "Kids ask why to everything. Why didn't you want to be here? Were we truly that horrible?"

Goddess, the smart, simple thing to do would be just say yes and end this horrible chat and get out like I wanted. But I was stupid and decided to prolong this conversation.

"No. That's not it."

"Then why, Florence?"

Running a hand through my hair, I breathed out a sigh. "It's not you. Really."

"That's not a good enough answer."

"Too bad."

I didn't want to answer any more of his questions, because those would ultimately bring me back to answering where the hell I've been, and I do not want to answer that.

"Would Dante tell me?" He asked, tapping his fingers on the table.

"No." At least, I hoped not. Maybe Dante, being upset with me, would tell Max. But he was better than that, right? He wouldn't sell me out just because he was mad.

Max raised an eyebrow. "I think I should try, since you won't." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. It was the same dark, slim model as Dante's.