Page 49 of The Queen
“Eliza, hey,” she breathes out, stepping past me into the room, her eyes darting around as if the threat might be hiding under my bed or in the closet. “I know you appreciate a lack of bush-beating, so I’ll get straight to it. I’ve heard things about the Kings.”
My blood turns to ice, even as my brain starts firing off like a machine gun. “Things?”
“Whispers that someone is out to take them down.”
“Any idea who it is?”
“Nothing solid yet. Just whispers, but you know how this world works. Whispers are as good as screams.”
“Okay, well, it’s not exactly news that fuckers are always out to get us. It’s just one more thing to deal with.”
Imogen nods, her gaze steady on mine. “This thing with you officially becoming Queen—do you realise what this means? The target on your back’s about to get bigger.”
“Queens got a nice ring to it, though, doesn’t it?” I say with a half-smile, not particularly worried.
“It’s power, influence. People will want to use you, or worse, remove you or the people around you.”
“The Kings.”
“Tobecomethe Kings.”
“Let them try. They don’t know the half of what I’m capable of.”
She gives me a searching look. “Heard about your aunt. That’s rough.”
“That’s life. This life.”
“Fact. You’re the strongest woman I know, and that’s saying something. I really respect you.”
“Thanks.”
Imogen’s hand lands on my arm. “I’ve got your back, Eliza, no matter what.”
I look into her eyes and see the truth in them. “I know.”
“Good.” Imogen’s lips curl into a smile.
“By the way,” Imogen adds with a wink as she heads toward the door, “you make ‘Queen of Castle’ sound like a badass title.”
“Only because I’m not standing alone,” I say, offering her a grin.
“No, you’re not.” She throws a casual salute and slips out of the door.
The room is silent again, but it’s a different kind of quiet now. Ruined. Spoiled. I was hoping to have just one day to myself. Sitting on the bed and staring at the door, I chew my lip. The coronation is a ticking bomb, a spectacle that could ignite envy or worse.
“Fuck it. It’s not like this won’t still be here tomorrow.”
Deciding that this can wait as the guys are all holed up here with me anyway, also trying to experience sometime down time as we’ve all been battered about the last few weeks, I head to the kitchen, ready to eat a horse between two bread vans if necessary.
I rummage through the fridge, pulling out ingredients for a sandwich—nothing fancy, just hearty and real. With each slice of bread and each spread of mayo, I lose myself in the simplicity of the task. The crisp lettuce, the sharp tang of cheese, the thick slice of ham—it’s mundane, and it’s perfect.
After devouring the sandwich at record speed, I pour myself a rare glass of wine, crimson-like blood, but smooth and calming. Holding it up, I think of Lila, casually making her plans to destroy me while she sipped on her wine. With a low snarl, I take a sip, letting the liquid heat trickle down my throat, pushing that savage bitch from my thoughts. She doesn’t deserve to be remembered.
I carry the glass to the window in the living room, gaze fixed on the campus on the other side of the electric gates, bathed in twilight. It’s a hauntingly beautiful sight, and I sigh with pleasure at being the ruler of this small, contained Kingdom.
Crossing over to the stairs, I slowly make my way back up to my room. A bubble bath might be cliche, but cliches exist for a reason. I set the wine down and turn on the taps, steam rising up enticingly. As I shed my clothes, I glance at my back in the mirror, at my tattoo—a skull entwined with a rose—which comes into view, a reminder of who I am and what I’ve sworn to protect.
I slide into the water, the heat enveloping me, seeping into muscles tense with too many secrets. Closing my eyes, I surrender to the embrace of the water. I allow myself the small pleasure of imagining a life without threats lurking around every corner.
