Page 10 of Wild Fury (Fallen Royals 6)

Doesn’t sound all too good to me, but I manage a smile. “You had fun?”

“As much as I could expect. Wilder’s brothers seemed to be in good spirits, and my fiancé was on his best behavior.” Her gaze hardens. “And you were nowhere to be found.”

“I was just…”

“Amelie!” Mom calls. “Where are you?”

“Here,” my sister returns. To me, she adds, “I swear, she may as well check your room first. It’s on the way past hers.”

Mom opens the door, and we both sit up. Amelie at least appears put together—matching pajama set our parents gave her for Christmas, hair scraped into a bun on top of her head. I went to sleep with damp hair, so I can only imagine what it looks like now. My sleep shirt is two sizes too big, so soft it’s practically worn through. There are holes in the collar.

Mom, however, is dressed. If Ames hadn’t said anything, I’d assume they came home sober. Her light-pink cashmere sweater is the picture of rich housewife. Perfect hair, nails, makeup.

“Everything okay?” Ames asks.

Mom shakes her head. “Not at all.”

My sister and I exchange a glance.

“Someone was murdered,” she whispers, stepping farther into the room. “At your party, no less.”

Amelie gasps. “What? Who?”

I lean forward, digging my elbows into my stomach. I might puke. He was found? Already?

Now Mom shifts. “They’re not entirely sure.”

I choke. “What?”

“The body was found…”

“For God’s sake, Elise.” Dad storms in. His eyes are bloodshot. “Get dressed. Both of you. I expect Wilder will be stopping by to check on Amelie, and you…”

I raise my eyebrows. “Should I just remain hidden the rest of the day?”

He grunts. “No. They’ll want to see you, too. Since you left without saying goodbye…”

Great.

Amelie reluctantly climbs off my bed and scoots past our parents. I stand, too, and fidget until Dad backs out. Mom steps away, too, but then her eyes zero in on my dress. I left it hanging on my closet door last night, so eager to get it off.

“Lucy,” she says faintly. “How did your dress get dirty?”

I shake my head. Fear gives my heart a kick, but I try not to let it show. It’s not obvious, looking at it. The bottom of the dress, the part of the skirt that brushes the floor, is black. But it’s very clearly not, now. There’s dirt, and something darker. I don’t know how I missed it last night. Why I didn’t inspect it under brighter lights, rinse it? Burn it?

“Not sure what you mean,” I lie.

She closes my door and then goes to the dress, lifting the fabric. Her fingers brush the streaks of dirt. The slight wrinkles caused by me knotting it.

“The body they found was off that walking path through the woods at the back of Jameson’s property,” she says.

Tears fill my eyes. I shouldn’t have to say this. I shouldn’t have to tell her that some man almost assaulted me at my sister’s engagement party, and his murder was an accident. In the back of my mind, I doubt she’d even believe me.

She blows out a breath. “Don’t admit to anything, honey.”

Because she doesn’t want to be an accomplice to my crime.

“I—”

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