Page 83 of Royally Bad

I didn’t know how she could look so smug. Was it because she’d just realized that, once again, our family had done something fucked up? “I know some of it,” I said. “Clearly not enough to understand why you left for ten years.”

Sitting up on her elbows, she asked, “Whatdoyou remember about that night?”

Hunching on the bed, I folded my arms over my chest. That time was so long ago ... it came to me in fragments. “I remember being in my room, hearing Costello shouting for help. I came downstairs to find out what the hell was going on.” The first thing I’d noticed was our normally shiny and clean floors had a trail of blood from the front door to the foyer. “He was half dragging you. Screaming. Your clothes were all red, the both of you.”

It had stuck out to me so starkly at the time because Lula was always so serene—so put-together. But there she’d been, sprawled on the floorboards with her shirt half torn apart, and Costello was no better.

I whispered, “At the time, I’d thought the blood was his. He was saturated in it.” Unable to blink, I stared right at her. “I didn’t know most of it was yours.”

She shivered, reliving the memory with me. I didn’t need to see her scars, the memories of the fresh wounds were enough. “I don’t remember much after I was attacked. I was so dizzy. I’d lost so much blood, it’s a blessing Costello got us out of there.”

“You almost died,” I said seriously.

Lula chuckled dryly. “It turned out fine.”

“No, it didn’t.” Frowning, I shook my chin side to side. “You still haven’t said why you two were attacked in the first place.”

Like she had too much energy, she hopped off the bed and started pacing. “Right, Father’s dirty little part in this. A group of nobodies had learned who we were—who our family was—and decided to use it against us.”

That confused me enough that I stood up as well. “Use it against us how? That’s not even a secret.”

“Our royal heritage is more of a weakness than you think, Brother.” She was so pale I could see the veins beneath her skin, like she was made of plastic wrap. “Being royalty is about more than using it as a pickup line to get girls.”

There—the biting side of Lula I knew so well.

She went quiet. I almost said something, but Lula began again. “And here we come to the real issue. My actions that split this family apart. After I healed from the attack, I told Father I was leaving. I didn’t want to be so close to him and the danger that being related to him brought. That was why he panicked and tried to lock me away.”

That was a night Ididremember. I’d stood in that hallway, looking on as Maverick shoved Lula into the room, explaining it was for her own good. Costello had assured me it would be fine when I’d tried—in my teenage rage—to intervene.

I’d been pissed at him for stopping me.

We sat in uneasy silence. I wanted to comfort Lula. I thought there had to be some way to make everything better.

She turned to face the wall, touching a shelf of books absently. “I used to imagine being a real princess, or even a queen. Did you know that?”

I smiled sadly. “I remember when you made me pretend to be your steed as you ran around, giving orders to all of us.”

She laughed suddenly. “Then Thorne threw water on me and told me to melt because I was secretly a witch. That’s right. I was so furious.”

Her joy was contagious. But my mind was elsewhere. Not in the fond memories of childhood, but in the heavy future waiting for my family. I’d never taken my heritage seriously. Lula was right, it had been all fun and games for me.

Had our father hidden the truth of this attack so we’d never think poorly of who we were?

Studying my sister, I pressed my fingertips to my right ribs. “That’s why you never got the tattoo.”

“The tattoos,” she snorted, brushing her own ribs thoughtfully. “I love this family, Kain. And I hate it at the same time.”

My hand fell to my side. “I guess that’s fair.”

Her lips twisted when she stared at me, one eyebrow riding high. “You want to talk about fairness, do you? Then let’s talk about howfairit is to keep that poor girl here. Why haven’t you run away together yet?”

Inch by inch, blood filled my veins. “What?”

Lulabelle whispered, “No one deserves to be locked up. No one.”

“She isn’t locked up anymore, Lula.”

“Please.” Her hands reached for mine, folding tight and calling back to all the times she’d chided me when I’d done something she didn’t find “princely” as a kid. “A cage without bars is still a cage. What’s keeping you here? Don’t you like her?”

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