Page 5 of Wicked Promises (Fallen Royals 3)

Mom grabbed me, and my eyes flew open. I knew it was her before I was even aware, because she always smelled like roses and baby powder.

“Caleb,” she said. “Wake up.”

I was already staring at her. Her order came a few seconds too late.

I didn’t bother pointing it out to her. She moved away, to the foot of my bed. Her glare cut through my misery. Through me.

“Why did they take her away?”

“Her father—” Mom pressed her lips together. “After what that man did to our family, you still want to see her?”

I sat up. “She didn’t do anything.”

Mom laughed. I flinched at the sudden loudness of it in my room. It was dark, practically the middle of the night. No moonlight came in through my windows. There wasn’t even a breeze to cool my skin.

I was hot. Burning impossibly bright.

“She didn’t do anything?” Mom parroted. She turned on my overhead light.

Again, I was the only one who flinched. She was being mean. Grief made people do crazy things. And by grief I mean…

“Do you even care that your father is dead?”

Long live the king.

I’d been repeating that since the day he died. Why? Because he was still here, haunting the house. Lurking. His memory was pungent enough to suffocate a bear, and Mom just wouldn’t let it go.

I wanted Margo. Plain and simple.

Mom huffed at my silence. “Get up.”

I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. “It’s two in the morning.”

“Get up Caleb Asher, or so help me—”

“Okay, okay.” I threw back the blankets and stood, keeping my attention half on her while I found my jeans and a clean shirt.

“Pack a bag.”

“What?”

“Pack a bag, Caleb,” she snapped. “Why do I have to ask you to do something twice?” To herself, she added, “He’ll learn.”

I shuddered but did as she’d asked. I threw clothes in a backpack. She disappeared, then returned with my toothbrush and a few other toiletries. She steered me down the stairs. Her grip was forceful.

Her bag was packed, too. A suitcase sat by the door.

“Where are we going?”

She gave me a brittle smile. “Away from this house.”

I cast a look around. “For how long?”

She shook her head. “Forever, as far as I’m concerned. The will reading is tomorrow, and I doubt your father left the house to me. Everything was locked up tightly in a trust.” She laughed. “How ironic.”

We stepped outside. It was just as hot and still out here as it was in my bedroom. The night wasn’t silent—not like the house. Quiet, yes, but there was life out here.

Not like in there.

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