Page 21 of Take My Crown

“Like you being bullied?”

Archer narrows his eyes at me as Milly answers. “I asked Archer not to get involved. I wanted to be brave and deal with it on my own. I’m a Knight and I can’t let everyone push me around or expect my brother to save me.”

“You should have let me help,” he all but growls at her.

“No,” she sticks out her chin.

“Stubborn brat,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, you’re a dickhead,” she huffs and it makes me smile a little to see Archer’s playful side with his sister. A peaceful silence falls between us all.

“So, are you going to Romy’s party?” Archer asks me.

“What party? And will there be stable boys? I don’t want to go if there aren’t.”

That is it. Milly erupted into fits of laughter. Even the oh-so-cool Archer can’t stop himself from smiling at my sarcasm.

“Silly Ivy,” Milly finally replies. “Romy doesn’t have a stable!”

Archer and I exchange a look. Sometimes I wish I grew up in a world like Milly did where you didn’t have to search for the seriousness in everything people said. To search for the lies. Milly has been sheltered from everything in this school, in this town. The darkness hasn’t corrupted her yet.

King Town soaked my soul in sin the moment I arrived.

“Seriously, though, Ivy, you should come,” Archer suggests with a secretive smirk.

“But I haven’t been invited,” I point out.

“It’s one of Romy’s many, many parties,” Archer explains. “You don’t need a specific invite. Anyone who’s anyone is welcome and you’re the embodiment of House Archaic. It’s practically compulsory for you to go. I think your father would approve–it’s always good to see what people are like outside of the Academy.”

“Well, if you think Dad would want me to go…” I sarcastically sigh and Archer raises one of his eyebrows. Shit, I need to get better at acting like I want my dad’s blessing. “Fine. I guess I’m going to a party then. Just what I need–an evening sitting in the corner while everyone ignores me.”

“No one will ignore you,” Milly reassures me. “Besides, you’ll have me to talk to. I can fill you in on all the gossip. We’ll sit in that corner together and make fun of everyone.”

“That can work,” I nod slowly, coming round to the idea.

“Awesome! Why don’t I come to your house before the party to help you pick out the perfect outfit?”

I thought about the bars on my windows and my permanently locked bedroom door. Archer catches my eye and gives a very subtle shake of his head. Yep, my “home” is not going to work.

“Maybe Ivy should come to ours instead?” Archer suggests. “You two look about the same size. You can lend her something of yours.”

“Ooooh, yes! It’ll be so much fun! Come to my house, Ivy. I’ll put together the perfect outfit for you. It’ll be a chance for me to practice my design skills. Please say you’ll let me dress you.”

“Sure,” I say. “If my father will let me, I’ll come to your house before the party.”

Chapter Ten

Ivy Archaic

Before the ‘fun’ of the party that now everyone is suddenly talking about, there is still the rest of the school week to get through and the one thing that makes the Academy bearable is that I get to spend lots of time with Declan. He is as serious about music as I am and the pair of us are determined to write the best song Mr Metcalf has ever heard.

He inspires me to be my best, so when we aren’t working together, I spend all my spare periods in one of the music rooms practising our song. Declan is such an amazing guitarist and I don’t want to let him down by making any mistakes when it is our turn to perform. I have mentioned to my dad about not wanting to risk damaging the Gibson by taking it to school, so he has bought me a second Gibson. I don’t think he really understands that the guitars are so expensive that having two of them doesn’t really solve the problem–it just means I have two guitars to worry about. Having grown up with foster parents who made it clear there was no spare money for luxuries, I don’t think I will ever adjust to having more money than I could possibly count.

It is pretty clear that if one of the Gibsons is damaged at school, Dad would just buy me a replacement, but that seemed sacrilegious to me. Guitars are my life, each one of them having a unique personality. I can tell the difference between my two Gibsons by the way they played, even though they are exactly the same to look at. If anything happened to the one I kept at school, I would be heartbroken. A new one wouldn’t be the same.

Wanting to mix things up a little, I started strumming one of my older songs. It has been a long time since I played it and I realise I can’t remember the words to the second verse.

“Ugh! This is stupid!” I play the chorus again, hoping that if I run into the verse, the words would magically come to my mind, but they are stubbornly elusive.

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