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Stella nods, understanding shining in her eyes. “Whatever you want to do. They’ll help you, no matter what you decide.”

I explode, “You don’t know that! And you… you can’t risk it.” I’ve seen the dungeon under the Palace. I know the Princes can make a man–or woman–disappear. They wouldn’t blink at killing a girl like Stella.

“I do know it.” Reaching out, she takes my hand, stilling me. “I think you can do whatever you set your mind to. Because the woman that I’ve watched over the last two months is so fucking strong, Verity. Way stronger than any woman over at the Hideaway, including my sister, and she’s a boss bitch.”

I sink down next to her, deflating. “She may be a boss bitch, but she still has a Lord and King she submits to.” I stand again abruptly, grabbing and stabbing the spade into the dirt. “That’s just how Forsyth works. I know it as well as anyone. Is it even possible for something good to come from so much evil?”

My mother warned me and I didn’t listen. I wanted it too much. I wanted to be special. To be The One.

But all I am is another ordinary girl trying to be Princess in a long line of failures. I thrust my hand into the urn, pulling at the decaying leaves. But suddenly, I freeze, panting.

On the very tip of the stalk is a speck of impossible, vibrant green.

The shoot is tiny–barely a leaf–and looks frail, as if the vine it’s attached to could snap at the slightest wind.

Slowly, I lower my hand, unsure if I should yank it out and keep it from taking root or do whatever I can to cultivate it. Is it fair to bring life into a place so cold and barren?

Should I run or should I do my duty?

“There was a reason I wanted you to come down here,” Stella says, drawing me out of my thoughts.

I stare at the green, aware of my pulse quickening in my veins. “Why?”

“Because it’s the only place we can speak freely,” she answers.

Lex had said it himself. Pace couldn’t find me down here. At a loss, I exhale. “Fine. So speak.”

“I know these last few weeks have been one trial after another,” she twists her braid around her finger, “but before you make any decisions, I have one last test I think you should take…”

I blink, trying to figure out why she’s speaking in riddles if no one else can hear us, but then it clicks.

She’s right.

There’s only one test that really matters.

31

Pace

Three days,six games, one shiny ass trophy.

“Drink! Drink! Drink!”

The chant echoes off the bar’s rafters, the whole room humming with a specific energy only reserved for undefeated champions.

Wicker holds the trophy over his head, champagne sloshing out of the wide rim. His tongue darts out and he drags it across the surface before taking a gulp. “Ahhh, the sweet taste of victory.” My brother grins, his bottom lip freshly split. “Tastes better than pussy.”

Some of the bruises from his ass-beating last week are still mottling his jaw, but you wouldn’t know it from the way he’s celebrating. To everyone else, he probably looks like the height of fucking satisfaction.

But I can see that gleam of defiant anger still swirling in his eyes.

“Twelve goals, and seven assists,” Decker cheers, raising his bottle of cheap beer. “The Ashby brothers are the real MVPs of the game!”

Glancing around, the place is filled with pucksluts looking to bang a champion. Pitchers of beer and baskets of wings are piled on every table, all bought by fans wanting to give us a good night. It’s a full-out celebration, but when the cup comes to me, I shake my head and wave it toward the next guy.

Just like with my Friday Night Fury victory, Father has given us permission to indulge until midnight. The text came just after the game, and something in my stomach still feels sour about it. The win belongs to the team–to me and Wick–but our father would never let us think so. Some part of it has to be his, just like everything else.

I look across the room to where Lex sits at a table with the other trainers, his drink untouched while his fingers tap on the table. We’ve barely spoken since the Royal Cleansing, the tournament occupying us in different scopes, but his quick temper and edginess have been obvious since the Scratch started wearing off days ago. There’d been no time to process what happened or to deal with whatever he’s going through chemically. We dropped Verity off with her handmaiden and found out that Danner had packed for us while we were fire-hosing the Princess in cum. None of us spoke as we cleaned up, gathered our belongings, and got in the car waiting outside. Lex was lost in his head, fighting his own demons, Wicker wired like a trigger, ready to pop, and I couldn’t stop mentally running the cleansing through my head over and over.