Page 5 of The Queen's Box

Willow startled. “Ash! You scared me!”

Ash had a college boy in tow. She nodded at him proudly and said, “Willow, this is Conrad Baines. I was telling you about his tech background...” She frowned at Willow. “You remember none of this? For real?” She gave Conrad an apologetic smile. “Sorry, my sister has a tendency to space out. Willow, Conrad founded VisionaryNet.”

Conrad smiled, revealing a piece of spinach between his front teeth. He stepped closer, bobbing his head too eagerly. “I did, yeah. Nice to meet you, Willow.”

Based on the flush rising on his cheeks, Conrad was taken with Willow. Most boys were. And Conrad, like the others, was as dull as mud, if only because he was hopelessly, unbearably human. But that wasn’t his fault, Willow reminded herself. “VisionaryNet? That’s... impressive.”

“It’s a tech start-up,” Ash added, her words too clipped. She, too, had noticed Conrad’s interest in Willow.

Willow didn’t blame her. Ash had done the work of striking up a conversation with this guy, and yet here he was, staring only at Willow. But Willow didn’t want him. Ash could have him. Ash could have all the Conrad Baines and bacon-wrapped dates her heart desired. She just shouldn’t drag a boy over to meet Willowand then get pissy if the boy didn’t behave in the way Ash wanted him to.

Unless... was it a litmus test? Oh, God. How horrible if introducing boys to Willow was a way for Ash to weed out the ones she might not have a chance with.

“So... you work with computers?” Willow asked. She tried to sound boring and dumb.

There was more eager head bobbing. “We’re laying the groundwork for a new digital future,” Conrad said. “One day, and you can quote me on this, everyone will have a phone in their pocket. No cords. No landlines.”

“Amazing,” Ash said.

“And let’s not forget the video component,” Conrad went on. “Think of it. In the not-too-distant future, you’ll be able to see the person you’re talking to, like something out ofThe Jetsons.”

“A handheld video phone?” Ash said. “That would be incredible.”

“Would it?” Willow asked. “Do you really think people want to look at each other when they talk on the phone?”

Conrad faltered for half a second before recovering. “We have other projects in the works as well. Real-time tracking. Location services. Parents could know where their kids were every minute of the day—imagine what peace of mind that would bring!”

Not for the kid, it wouldn’t. Not if the kid did something the parents found alarming. Willow flashed to her cinder-block room at Mountain Crest and shuddered. There was surely a limit to how much power even the best parents should have over their kids’ lives.

Ash leaned in. “How are you building out the tracking systems? Are we talking satellite triangulation? Proprietary algorithms?”

“We’re experimenting with GPS integrations, developing encrypted networks for seamless connectivity. Once the infrastructure’s in place, people will always know where you are and who you’re with. It’s revolutionary.”

“Or dystopian,” Willow said, earning her a glare from Ash.

Juniper, wearing a pink tulle skirt that screamed Delia’s clearance rack, veered toward them with a tray of cheese wedges and olives. She must have picked up on the tension between Willow and Ash because she just as quickly swerved away.

Willow wished she could swerve away with her. As she listened to Conrad Baines drone on about a future where she’d be hemmed in and tracked like a pet with a microchip, her stomach turned. What if, with every year that passed, the world got smaller and the trap drew tighter until Willow was permanently sealed inside it—just another polished girl with manicured nails and dead eyes?

A chime rang out over the clatter of glass and conversation. Willow’s breath caught, and she turned her head.There, at the far end of the hall. A woman.Thewoman, the one who’d pinned Willow with her gaze before vanishing into the black-barked trees.

The woman shimmered now just as she’d shimmered then, draped in a gown of gossamer. Her long black hair fell past her shoulders, crowned with a circlet of silver and thorns. She didn’t speak, but Willow felt her question even so.

Will you stay, then? Stuck in this world forever?

The room tilted, and Willow was a child again, staring at something no one else could see.

A clumsy shoulder clipped hers, jolting her sideways. Something cold and sticky splashed her arm.

“Oh! Sorry, doll, I didn’t see you!” A man brayed a laugh, breath thick with whiskey. He clapped her shoulder in rough apology.

Willow twisted away, scanning the room, but the woman was gone.

~

“There you are,” came a voice behind her. Her father. Grant Braselton.

He was smiling, but only barely. His hand closed around Willow’s elbow—not hard, but firm enough to make his meaning clear.

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