Page 125 of The Prince of Broken Crowns

Fear consumes his expression. “Maddy, this bloodline is allegedly deceased. The probability of it completely dying out on its own is low.”

I’m not following him. “How else would it die out?” A thought hits. “Wait—you think someone killed off this Everfords’ bloodline?”

He doesn’t immediately respond, but his silence says enough.

“No, there’s no way.” I shake my head in denial. “That’s like murder.”

“People get away with murder,” he stresses. “Especially in the royal world. Think about Grey and what you said about him once you started looking into his cliental.”

For a lightning bolt of a second, fear pours through me. But I quickly douse the feelings.

“I’m not worried. I’m not a royal,” I insist, knowing I have to be right.

How could I? All I’ve ever known is poverty. If I was, I was adopted, which I look too much like my mother for that. The other alternative is one of my parents had an affair with a royal, and if they did, we wouldn’t be poor because my parents are the kind of people who’d use that info as blackmail.

Rain begins to shower down from the sky and splatter against the ground.

“Are we going to run in this?” I change the subject. “Or use the treadmills?”

River stares at me, clearly wanting to say more but decides against it.

“Since it’s lightning, let’s use the treadmills,” he answers.

I’m uncertain if he’s being truthful or if this is his way of keeping me away from the paparazzi. Whether for his sake or mine, I’m not entirely certain.

Maddison

River and I remain relatively quiet while we run. The gym is not too packed, but the people there constantly glance at us, and it ruins my run. By the time I’m finished, I’m more than ready to go to my room and shower.

“But what if there are cameras?” River asks as we exit the gym.

I wipe some sweat from my brow. “I’ll ransack my room, and cover all of my bases.” When his lips part in what is more than likely a protest, I add, “I can’t just stay in your room. I need to be able to go into mine.”

His throat muscles work as he swallows down the protest. “All right, but if you need anything?—”

“I text you if something goes wrong.” I offer him a forced smile then start toward my room, which is in the opposite direction of his.

I move quickly, needing some space so I can clear my head. It’s not that I don’t like being around him—I do a ton—but seeing the paparazzi was like a bitch-slap reminder across the face of what I’m getting myself into with this fake dating plan of ours. I don’t believe I’m from royal blood, but I am worried about River’s world. I could barely walk through the lobby of his building in the city. How am I supposed to deal with being in newspapers and enduring this constant attention merely from walking around with him.

What I need to do is figure out why in the hell this society wants to come after me. I may not understand societies, but corruption and being targeted by male assholes is definitely something I’ve had to do on multiple occasions.

I decide to take some action when I get back to my dorm room. But I take a shower first because I freaking stink. Once I’m clean and dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and a T-shirt, I slip on my shoes and head out to see if Lily is home. I luck out and find her in the kitchen, rummaging around in the cupboards. She looks like she just returned from class, sporting comfortable but stylish pants and a colored shirt.

“Where the heck did the movers put the forks?” she mumbles while closing a drawer.

“Hey,” I greet her as I enter the living room quarters.

She jolts, her gaze snapping to me. But the instant she spots me, I know she’s learned about River and me.

“Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re here because I heard a rumor that I want to confirm before I start getting too excited.” She practically skips over to me, and I have to wonder if this isn’t her getting excited, then what the heck is?

“I already know what you’re going to say.” I sit down on the sofa. “So, to answer your question, River and I are dating. But it’s not anything serious.”

The high-pitched squeal that leaves her mouth is enough to make me about piss my pants. Fortunately, I don’t have to pee.

“Oh my God, I knew it!” she exclaims as she dramatically plops down onto the sofa beside me.

“How the heck did you know?” Especially since we’re fake dating.

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