Page 1 of Take My Crown

Prologue

Ten years ago…

“When you’re older, little dove, you will love four men.”

Mum’s smooth, calm voice whispers to me as I try to drift off to sleep in her arms. Her peppermint and tulips perfume comforts me, the familiar smell reminding me I am safe and loved. My pink fluffy blanket is wrapped around us, keeping us warm while a storm rages outside. Rain pounds against the windows while flashes of lightning sporadically light up the shadows in my room.

“Why four?” I ask around a yawn.

“The first is a knight who will be a mistake, but everyone needs those to help their heart blossom.” Mum counted them off on her fingers. “The second is your first true love, but it won’t last because the prince is promised to someone else. The third is a joker who never should have been more than a friend…” Her voice trails off, a look of sadness briefly crossing her face.

I don’t know if I like this story. Mum usually tells me fairy tales about princes and princesses, brave women who save kingdoms from bad men, weaving a world of fantasy for me to escape into. This seems a little too… real.

I play with a strand of mum’s soft, blonde hair, enjoying the feel between my fingers. “And the fourth?”

“That’s the man you’ll do anything for, the man you’d die for if it protected him. He’s the king who’ll steal your soul, wrap it in an ivy called love and never let you go,” she smiles, lightly caressing my cheek with the back of her hand.

In that moment my mind is made up. I don’t want a prince, or a knight, or a joker. I want to love a king.

“Is that why my name is Ivy, mummy?” I ask. “Am I the princess in the story?”

She drops a gentle kiss onto my forehead. “No. You’re the queen in the story and no one will ever take that from you. Queens don’t need kings, but a king always needs his queen.”

It is the last story she ever tells me.

Chapter One

Ivy Archaic

“Take me away,

Make me pay,

‘Cos you chase the grey away,

You’re the one who makes me smile,

Even when I want to run a mile,

I’m always running, always-

I… I… I…Ugh!”

I throw my pen down on the paper, watching it bounce a few times before flying off the desk. I have been working on this song all day and I still can’t figure out how the chorus should go. Music is my usual escape from the world, but for some reason, I can’t get into the zone.

Running my fingers through my long, wavy brown hair, I stare out the window at the nicer houses on the other side of the road. They are those fancy new builds with super eco everything and fake grass in their gardens to boot. I wonder for a single moment if they look at this side of the road at the old cottage I live in. It needs a new roof and the grass outside grows every single day. I bet they look over and think: ‘the grass is definitely not greener on the other side’.

“Ivy!”

I put my guitar to one side, the sound of my foster mum Katy’s voice giving me a welcome excuse to walk away from a song which simply isn’t working and my thoughts on rich people's houses.

“It lives!” Katy deadpans as I walk into the small kitchen. She is chopping onions and the smell instantly makes my eyes water.

“Yeah, yeah.” I roll my eyes.

Katy is all right as foster parents go, and I should know. I have had more than my fair share of them and most I pretend I don’t remember for my own sanity. In the three years I have lived with her, she has treated me like family, which is a refreshing change compared to the ones who are in it for the monthly paycheque. Still, I am counting down the days until I can escape the system and strike out on my own. As soon as I finish school, I’m outta here. I don’t care if I have to work dead-end jobs and study my butt off at college, I won’t force Katy to keep me when she can foster another kid and actually get paid. This place is sweet, and another kid deserves her love.

And her fantastic cooking skills.

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