Letting it sink in.

Because if Franklin Astor is my father, then I have no legal claim on my home, other than the precious memories of growing up there. I’m parentless, and until my twenty-first birthday—when I can access my trust fund—I’m penniless.

“I want to go home.” I cross my arms, a pure display of defiance because deep down, I know I’m screwed whether I stay or go.

With a sigh, Landon rises and closes the few feet between us. Kneeling in front of me, he takes my hand in his. “Going home isn’t an option, my queen.”

I yank my hand free. “I’m not your queen. According to what you just told me, I’m nobody’s queen.”

“You are a queen, Novalee. For the sake of your nation, no one must find out about our shared bloodline. That’s why I’ll continue to address you so formally. The auction must go on.”

“So you won’t allow me to leave?”

He shakes his head. “You’re an Astor.” Something flashes in his emerald gaze, something I can’t define though it’s on the edge of my mind, scratching with a hint of clarity. “You belong on Zodiac Island, not with Rowan or out in the world on your own.”

I nod toward my mother’s secret journal. Her Pandora’s box. “You might have the power to keep me here, but you can’t stop me from revealing the truth myself.”

The transformation in Landon’s expression has me pressing into the back of the chair, regretting my threat. He leans forward, his face a harsh mask of warning. “You don’t want to see the other side of me. For the sake of you and your nation, this is a secret you will keep.”

“Issuing threats isn’t a very brotherly thing to do.”

His mouth flattens into a stubborn line. “I’m not the bad guy in this situation, Novalee, but I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect you and keep you here where you belong.”

I can’t help but glare at him because he’s treating me the same way every other man in this tower has—like a puppet to be mastered.

“You’d rather see me married to someone like Heath Bordeaux?”

“Heath won’t get his hands on you again.”

“But he has the means to win the auction.”

“He’ll have to stick to art and jewels. The auction for your hand isn’t one he’s going to win.”

“You sound certain.”

“I am.” He stands, and the weight of his stare presses on me. “There’s only one man I’ll allow to win that auction.”

“Who?” A dart of my tongue moistens my dry, nervous lips.