Page 164 of The Prince of Broken Crowns

“That’s good. I wanted to see if you were up for getting some breakfast and then going to the library so we can try to find out more about the Everfords.”

I pull the door all the way open, aware that he subtly checks me out. “I’m down for that, but I need to talk to my mom later tonight … Did they for sure cancel classes today?”

He nods, sweeping his fingers through his hair. “And tomorrow, too.”

I grimace. “I think I’m going to have to raid my old bedroom and see if I’ve got any clothes lying around. I know you said Lily could lend me some, but we’re not the same size.”

“Actually, Lily has a bunch of extra clothes that designers have given her,” he explains. “She told me some of them aren’t her size but might fit you.”

“Why did they give her clothes if they weren’t her size?” I ask, placing my hand on the door jamb.

“To wear them to events. They send them to her, hoping she’ll wear them, but they don’t always send the right size.” He holds up a finger. “She gave them to me last night, but I didn’t want to wake you up, so I put them in my room … Hold on.” He heads to his bedroom, steps inside and, a moment later, returns with a handful of clothes. They’re on hangers and most are covered with plastic. He steps past me and into the room, where he places them on the bed. “There are shoes, too. Why don’t you look through this while I go get them?”

I head to the bed as he walks out of the room again. I begin rummaging through the clothes. I expect them to be Lily’s style, but weirdly, they match my own—wide-legged jeans, crop tops, and lots and lots of black fabric.

“Anything work?” River asks as he enters the room with a stack of shoe boxes.

I grab a pair of jeans and a crop top with a heart on it. “Yeah, but why are all these clothes my style?”

“Because Lily intentionally picked out stuff she thought you’d like.” He sets the shoe box down on the bed and sticks his hand into his pocket, removing what looks to be a small bag of makeup. “She’s good at that kind of stuff.”

I recall how she helped me pick out an outfit for my first day at the academy and how she did a great job.

“She is,” I agree, moving the makeup to the side and lifting the lid off the top box. Inside is the holy grail of shoes. “Red velvet boots? Oh my God.”

He chuckles. “I’m guessing you like them.”

“Um, yeah, they’re velvet boots.” I sigh, facing him. “I feel weird about this.”

“Don’t. They’re just going to end up at a donation center, anyway.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You should get dressed and get the boots on. I bet that’ll make you feel a tiny bit better.”

I narrow my eyes at him but smile. “I think you’re trying to play on my love for boots, but it’s working.” I grab the boots, makeup, and the outfit I picked out then head toward the bathroom but pause in the doorway. “Do I have time to shower?”

“Take as much time as you need, Maddy. We’re not on a schedule.” He smiles warmly at me.

And I don’t even bother acknowledging the butterflies in my stomach. I simply step into the bathroom, shut the door, and take a shower in the biggest shower I’ve ever seen. By the time I’m finished, I feel refreshed, I smell amazingly like sugar, my hair is soft as hell from the conditioner that was in there, and my skin is dewy and smooth from the scrub I used. I can’t allow myself to get used to this, though.

“It’s short term,” I say to myself as I take in my reflection.

I dig out some eyeliner to put on and some tinted lip gloss. I top the look off with mascara and call it good, leaving my damp hair down. When I exit the bathroom, River is sitting on the foot of the bed with a book in his hand. As I approach him, he scans up and down my body.

“Everything fit?” he asks.

“Yep. And while I feel like a total traitor to northside—which, FYI, I really don’t care—but anyway, I have to say that designer jeans feel so much better against my skin. The material is so soft.” I stop in front of him, and he angles his head back to look up at me. “What’re you reading?”

“A book I found in our library. I thought it might have some information that could be useful.”

“Did it?”

“Not really.” He closes the book, sets it on the bed, and stands up. “You ready?”

“Sure. How far is this place?” I ask. “Oh, and did Noah come by chance? I’d like to have my phone.”

“He showed up late last night,” he tells me as we start toward the door. “We can knock and see if he’s finished checking your phone for viruses. He showed up so late that no one really had time to talk to him. I think he’s avoiding.”

“Maybe he’s worried about telling you guys the truth. Like maybe it’s dangerous. The secret he’s keeping, I mean.”

His brows knit. “Why would you say that?”

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