Page 7 of House of Royals

The two Conrath plantations were bought and purchased by brothers who had recently emigrated from England to the Americas. Bringing with them a large fortune, each brother bought a large parcel of land. They built their separate homes and began to establish cotton plantations.

The plantation established by Henry Conrath is located on the north end of town, and the one established by Elijah Conrath is located on the south.

Each plantation remained in operation until 1875, when Elijah Conrath was killed.

There then are two entire paragraphs inked out.

Little is known about the north plantation after that time. Production was ended and Henry Conrath is rumored to have died soon after his brother.

More blotted out text in that same paragraph. And that brought me to the end of the page.

My father must have been named after his great-something-grandfather. Rath told me the Conrath estate, mine, the north one, was built in 1799. Assuming the south one was built at the same time, Elijah would have been quite old when he was killed.

I wonder who owns the south house now? Did Elijah have his own children he passed it down to? Or has it long since been sold and bought by some stranger?

My fingers reach for the copy of the news article. The title reads “Double Fires.”

“I’m sorry, Alivia.” I jump hard when the voice cuts through the absolute silence. I turn to see Bella standing behind me. “But we have to close now. You’re of course welcome to take the copy with you.”

“Okay,” I say, swallowing hard, calming the adrenaline in me back. “Thanks again for your help.”

She still looks at me with questions and uncertainty as I hand the book over to her. She watches me go as I fold the copy of the article and slide it into my back pocket.

My phone dings when I step outside, and I pull it out to find a text from Rath.

Where are you?

I chuckle. I’ve never had a father my entire life. I’m twenty-two years old, and my father’s former helper man is checking in on me like I’m fifteen.

In town, I reply.Be back soon.

It’s strange. But kind of nice.

Be back before dark.

Even stranger. And frankly, it kind of annoys me.

I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.

I walk back up Main Street a little ways to the deli I saw earlier and grab myself a sandwich. Everyone is friendly and kind, but in the way that they know they’ll forget me in sixty seconds or less. And I realize—everyone in this town thinks I’m a tourist.

On the corner, right next to the Baptist church, I see a sign for a historic walking trail. With little else to do, and not in a hurry to go back to my prison house, I take it and eat my dinner while I walk.

Beautiful houses line the trail. It eventually cuts back toward the river, running right in front of it. Large, early-eighteen hundreds, late-seventeen hundreds houses are everywhere. Nothing compared to the Conrath Estate, but still beautiful.

The trail keeps cutting south, before finally making a loop and heading me back in the direction I came. I wonder how much further south the other Conrath house is.

It’s dark by the time I pop back out on Main Street. Lamps glow softly. The street is quiet now, completely empty, which seems weird. I check my phone for the time and find it’s just after ten o’clock. Just then, a text comes through.

Rath:Where are you?

I’m good and annoyed now. Like a spiteful teenager, I head back down the road, toward the river, the opposite way of home.

As I walk past a house mixed amongst the churches and businesses, a door opens and light floods the sidewalk.

“You got a death wish, girl?” a dark as night woman with a heavy accent shouts. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Excuse me?” I ask, my brows furrowing.

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