Page 69 of A Broken Promise

“It’s all good, gorgeous. Parents sometimes are shit. What can you do?” He shrugged and slid his hands into his pockets again.

“Freckles!” Priya’s impatient yell roared through the house. I sharply turned my head towards the top of the stairs.

“I guess I better go,” I said, folding the drawing and stashing it under my bra.

“Is that where you are keeping them?! Ah, I am going to need somecopies back. Or you know what? Why don’t I just inspect those galleries myself, just to make sure my art is being properly stored.” His eyebrows twitched in amusement, so proud of himself.

“You are seriously ridiculous.” I shook my head, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t chuckle inside either.

“I’ll see you soon, gorgeous.” Florian bid farewell by saluting me like a soldier and walked out of the front door.

I shot up the stairs, remembering how exhausted my legs were, sweat all dried and crusty around my face. I needed a good shower and a nap, and maybe a lunch or two.

35

“In here,” Priya yelled again. I took a few more quick steps to her quarters. Priya’s office door was wide open. The room was spacious, just like every other room in the house. The large, wooden beams ran through the tilted ceiling, and the carved antler and wood chandelier sat high in the well-lit room. The wall high windows behind the dramatically large desk were slightly curtained by the deep burgundy fabric, the silver tassels running loose along the heavy carpeted floor.

Grand bookshelves were filled with all manner of texts and books, tiny to large bronze and silver statues decorated the space in between. Priya sat on her large, out-of-place purple chair. Even in sweat-covered workout clothes and ruffled, messy hair, she looked like a damn queen on a throne. I stopped by the desk. Priya sat still, staring at the display of all manner of rings in the black velvet box. There had to be over fifty of them, each so unique with many different stones and designs. All exquisite.

“What are those?” I asked. I had never seen Priya wear them.

“These are the Royal rings I’ve collected so far,” Priya drew out, her eyes on the empty spot between them all.

I sat down on one of the chairs, not too far from her desk. “Theseare your trophies, you mean.” One look at Priya’s eyes, her predator’s gaze, the possessiveness and obsessiveness were very clear. Priya was a collector. She never left a kill empty handed. Always a thing, always something of value to her.

“There is one missing. That’s why we are going to the ball, isn’t it?”

“Look at you, being clever,” Priya said, running her finger over some of the rings, slowly, as if reliving each one of those executions. “It’s missing two actually. One of them, the kill was already done, yet I never got my ring.” Her eyes slightly narrowed, stopping on that small empty space.

“Why Royals?” I asked intently.

“Why not? You’d think, you as a Rebel lover would be excited for the death of another rotten Royal, you know.”

Though I wasn’t excited for yet another death, I wouldn’t object to it.

“I am not someRebel lover.” I scowled, aware of the implication of Priya’s words.

“You can say whatever you want but I know you’ve been sneaking behind my back, collecting their rotten propaganda.” Priya narrowed her eyes on me. I stared back in those shimmery, copper eyes, determined.

I would not be intimidated. Though, there was no point in hiding it.

“It’s not propaganda, it’s called history books, Priya. Just because they are forbidden or restricted doesn’t mean that it changes history or the truth, it only means we are not aware of what has been happening all along.”

“And you thinkyouwill figure it out after reading a few so-calledhistorybooks? You give yourself too much credit, Freckles.” Priya huffed, putting on one of the rings.

“I might not figure it out, but I’ll be damned if I had a chance to learn and Ichoseto ignore it.”

Ever since the death of Bornea Miteno, I had spent all my free time searching. Countless hours at the best of Svitar libraries, scavenging gods-forgotten antique shops and any kind of markets offering evensomething remotely ancient. There was so much to learn of the past, of magic. Of the history that was being so well rewritten.

Maybe I was getting obsessed and lost, but what else would I be doing with my life since I still had yet to discover an actual Rebel group.

“Whatever you say, Freckles. Whatever you say. I do hope you drop it soon…considering I’d have to take that precious necklace you wear around your neck back.”

My hand twitched, eager to clamp the eye-shaped stone pendant hanging by my heart, but I stilled it.

“You brought up the Rebels, not me.” I shrugged, pasting a soft smirk on my face. I’d have to be better. Sneakier, more cunning.

I had no intention of dropping it.

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