“You really have Lucy Rhodes here?”
“I didn’t invite her, Heath. She’s visiting the area.”
“You shouldn’t have let her in the doors.”
“Fuck you.”
“This is not smart, Liam.”
“Did anybody ask you?” I snarl.
Heath takes off, spinning out before he rights himself and zooms toward the south edge of our property. I unscrew the cap of my flask.
I drain half of it. Heath chugs too, then we zoom toward Clary.
*
Lucy
There is a dungeon in the castle. I find out from Pete, the high school student who also happens to be Mora’s nephew. I beg him to take me down there, but he tells me the main entrance was walled off a long time ago, and the only remaining one is in one of the “private rooms”—whatever that means.
I finish my amazing meal and then Pete shows me which areas I can wander through. I spend some time at the grand piano in one of the parlors, then looking at animal heads in the hunt room. I’m not sure if I’m appalled or intrigued to see a lion’s head, and what I’m pretty sure is a leopard head. Probably appalled.
I wander through a massive library I’ve never seen before, with such tall floor-to-ceiling shelves, you have to climb giant ladders to get to all the books. I wonder which rare books are housed here, but it’s impossible to tell at a glance.
In another of the office-looking rooms, I find a case of Liam’s sports trophies. Back upstairs, I linger outside his room for a few minutes before going into my own. I’d really love to go lie on his bed and smell the Liam smell, but I’m not going to invade his privacy.
In my own bed, I snuggle up with Grey and contemplate calling Amelia. In the end, I don’t. I’m not sure what I’d tell her.
I’m borderline obsessed with Liam, and I’m thinking of just dating him without saying a word about this child until I start to show. By then he’ll be in love with me and then we’ll all live happily ever.
Yeahhhh. I lost some marbles on Pirate Island.
In a moment of weakness, I follow the instructions scrawled on a sheet of paper on my nightstand and connect my iPhone to the castle’s internet network. Then I navigate the browser on my phone to TMZ. I can’t bear to read the articles with my name in the headline, but I’m there for long enough to note the absence of those pictures.
Good.
I wonder if the baby is a girl, what will I tell her about what happened between Bryce and me. The sad thing is, I know she’ll know. With the media the way it is, and my family in the spotlight, nothing can stay hidden. If the baby is a boy, it’s just as bad. I wish the story didn’t exist at all. That it had never happened.
I sigh, and Grey licks my arm.
“I need to tell Liam, don’t I?”
Grey licks his paws.
I get off the bed and walk out onto the balcony, smelling the fragrant ocean air and feeling lost and slightly scared.
It doesn’t matter what he says, I tell myself. He might run the other way, and that’s okay. I’ll do this on my own. I’m strong. I can handle the media. I can raise a child to be a good adult.
I should tell Liam tonight, I think. Just get it done.
In my anxiety, I paint my fingernails and toenails mint green, pluck my eyebrows, sip some ginger ale, and walk around the room noting details like the Buddhist books on Liam’s mom’s book shelf and the tiny construction paper card resting underneath a teacup on a table.
I open it, and in a child’s large, clumsy script, it reads: I LOVE YOU, MUMMY. You’ve my faforite!
By the time I make it outside to the castle lawn, my eyes are damp from crying. On the side lawn, I find a tire swing of all things, and test the rope before I sit inside and start to swing.
*
Liam
I’m not having Lucy go—not yet. I told Heath that, and eventually he let up, saying only, “I don’t know about you, bro.”
As we drive back onto castle grounds, I catch him staring at me.
“What?”
He shrugs.
“That’s what I thought.” I give him a glare, and Heath arches his brows.
“That girl…”
“You better treat her right.”
“Or?”
I grit my teeth, and my cousin chuckles. “Like I said—that girl. She’s got you all fucked up.”
“Says the asshole who almost got asked to leave the ball for cutting in on Kate Middleton three times last year.”
“Whatever, man. I didn’t cut in on Wills.”
I give him a damning stare, and Heath has the good grace to shut his pie-hole. When the car is quiet again—just filled with the Drake noise my cousin loves—I realize I feel almost good.
I’ve done my latest dirty deed, so I feel a little better. For now, anyway.
Health and I get out of the car and head in different directions. He’s going to get ready for the party he’s having here tonight. I’m off to find Lucy.
I find her attacking my kick-boxing bag and watch her for a minute from the trees. She’s fierce. Fierce and beautiful. I step closer to her, watching her dark hair fly all around her shoulders.
“You’re really going at that.”
She jumps, then whirls, shrieking.
I duck, holding my hands up.
“Sorry!” She laughs. “I was in my zone.”
“I see that.” I grin, and she jumps playfully around me with her hands raised in fight stance. Then she straightens up and wipes her brow. “So… Did your thing go okay?”
“Okay.”
“Well welcome home.” She winks.
“I got a text from Pete. You want to see the castle dungeon?”
“YES! You know I do.”
Stacy, one of the attendants, brings a towel and some water for Lucy.
“I’m so gross and sweaty,” she complains as Stacy saunters off.
“Sweaty, yes. Gross, definitely no.”
I take Lucy’s hand and lead her inside. We go upstairs, into my rooms, into the study by the bathroom, then through the tiny wooden door and down two flights of thick, stone steps before we reach a massive, low-ceilinged space divided by partial walls dotted with manacles and chains.
“Oh my God!” Lucy’s jaw drops. “It really is a dungeon.”
“I thought of having it closed off.”
“Oh, no way.” She takes a few steps toward some rusty-looking chains. “This is historical.”
“The history of the place is terrible.”
“Do I dare to ask?”
I lift my eyebrows. “Do you?”
“I kind of want to know. It’s creepy, but it’s interesting. C’mon,” she prods. “Tell me.”
I sigh. “Remember how I told you the history of my family? How there were a few different clans? Well, there was a skirmish with another clan not long after my family became designated royal, and the king’s oldest son, Winston, a five year old, was killed. The king imprisoned five adult men from this other clan here and tortured them for five weeks, one week for each year of his dead son’s life.”
“Holy Hello Kitty.” Her eyes canvass the room. “Then he let them go?”
I look down before holding her gaze. “Of course not.”
“He killed them.”
“He did.”
“That’s pretty terrible.”
“I don’t like that it’s down here. As a kid I had dreams about it.”