Page 2 of Royal Havoc

Nothing about my life makes sense. It’s like that moment when dusk hits, and the world around you is lit up, but you can’t quite see through the murky haze. Then you blink, and suddenly everything’s dark.

“Are you listening, Onyx?” Nolan asks, glaring at me across the kitchen table.

Casually glancing from the window. “Nope,” I answer, making sure to pop the p. “None of this matters.”

“It does,” he argues, trying unsuccessfully to hide his annoyance. “River’s Edge has its own set of rules.”

Shoving from my chair hard enough it scrapes across the kitchen floor. “I don’t give a shit about rules. Or history. I don’t care that a bunch of old guys smeared some blood on a piece of dirty paper and decided to call it a unity,” I hiss, storming to the counter to get another cup of coffee.

“Your name means you have to care —”

“No!” I growl, spinning around to face him. “What I have to care about is being an adult for less than an hour before waking up in a hospital bed. To then be taken to identify my mom’s dead body. And, finding out less than twenty-four hours later, I’m being forced to leave my home. By a dead guy!” I shout, using up most of my breath. “Top that,” I urge hatefully, waving my arm at him.

His jaw hangs open as he stares at me across the room. When he doesn’t speak, I turn around and go back to pouring my coffee.

“I know you and Opal had a rocky relationship. But she loved you,” he offers calmly.

Placing both hands on the counter to hold my exhausted body up as I study the steaming liquid and absorb what he said.

When I was young, the two of them did a great job of hiding their relationship. As I got older, they became sloppy. Finally, Mom sat me down when I turned fifteen and told me shecaredfor Nolana lot.

Who even says that about someone?!

I know the woman loved chocolate chip muffins, but I don’t have a clue if she loved me because she never usedthatword.

“Right,” I finally throw out, shaking my head at the foreign thought. “If shelovedme. Why wasn’t I good enough? Why did she hate every little thing about me?” I mumble over the lump starting to clog my throat.

“She didn’t hate everythi —”

“My hair’s too dark. I need to wear more makeup. The anxiety makes me weak. Should I keep going?” I ask, strolling back to the table, feeling more composed.

He runs a hand over his tired face. “I can’t fix the past,” he offers softly as I set down my cup. “But, I’ll try to help you understand your future.”

Finding out you’ve lost the only person who ever pretended to care is an indescribable feeling. It’s an emptiness that scrapes at your insides, ripping at flesh, leaving you sore and scarred. Which hardly makes sense, but it’s all I’ve got.

At least Mom stuck around. That’s the one thing I’ll give her. She didn’t drop me like a boring hobby.

Unlike him!

Sighing loudly as I sit down. “I’m listening. Tell mewhyI have to go back to that shitty little town,” I prompt calmly before taking a sip.

He shakes his head, and it seems as if he’s trying to make sense of what he’s about to tell me. “I found some paperwork Opal signed before we met. She agreed to a stipulation, that appears to have been put into place by Rowland.”

Holding up a hand to stop him. “How do her dead parents have any say aboutmylife? I met them once.”

It’s vague, but I remember Gramps and Grams coming to visit us after Mom moved us to the city. She was a basket case during their entire visit. Even more than usual. After they left, I recall asking her why she was scared of Gramps. She told me he carried a ghost inside of him, and Grams was scared of it. Then, she told me never to ask questions about her past. After that, she never mentioned them again until I came home from school one day and she made me pack a bag. She said we were going to River’s Edge because her parents house caught fire and they were killed.

I was ten, and that’s when I swore I’d never go back there.

“Rowland came from old money, Onyx. From what I’ve gathered, he owned most of the town. Opal told me once he had enough money to fund a few small countries if he wanted to and would never miss a dime,” he explains seriously.

I shrug, swallowing the drink I’ve taken. “Great, he was rich. Mom got tons of money,” I throw out, rolling my eyes at what I obviously already know.

He keeps mentioning the rules of having anameand living in asmall town. I’ve lived in the city since I was two when Mom split from the douchebag. It’s all the same. It doesn’t matter where you live.

The bitches I’ve grown up with would stab me in the back in a second if they thought it would move them up in the ranks. It’s all about thename. They aren’t my friends. I know it, and they know it. They love the power and popularity my name brings, and I let them. It’s all a game, and we play our parts well.

When the Queen moves, so do the pawns.

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