Page 62 of Brutal Crown

A wildfire is starting to spread, and someone needs to put a stop to it before it destroys us all.

17

LIA

My knees hit the cold tile just as a violent wave of nausea crashes over me. My fingers clutch the rim of the toilet, my hair sticking to the sweat on my neck as I expel all the contents of my stomach into the ceramic bowl. I heave and heave until nothing comes up, until I’m empty.

This is the fourth morning in a row.

I rinse out my mouth, splash water on my face, and stare at myself in the mirror above the sink. Pale. Tired. Lips cracked. The hollowness under my eyes looks worse in the light.

This house is draining me in ways I don’t have words for. I tell myself it’s stress, trauma from the recent events. Heck, even the food. Maybe there’s a bug going around.

Until I realize my period is due, and I can’t find it anywhere.

The thought sinks in slowly, like mud in water. I stumble back into the room and sit on the edge of the bed, pressing my palms against my thighs to steady the tremble. My chest tightens, and my mind races.

No! It is the stress. It can’t be?—

I shake my head as memories ofthatnight flood through my brain. The way Francesco kissed me like he was trying to drownhimself in me, the way he slammed into me like he was trying to get me out of his system.

God.

I don’t have a test. I cannot leave this house; I haven’t left since I was brought here two years ago. I can’t exactly ask one of the maids sent on market runs to buy me a test kit. The last thing I want is for anyone to find out about my suspicion. Gossip spreads fast amongst the servants of this house.

Which is exactly why I know what to do.

Last week, when I was fetching linens from the back hallway, I overheard two of the older maids. They were giggling about one of the younger maids, Paula, missing her period. One of them said they had caught her sneaking a pregnancy test kit out of the grocery bag in the kitchen.

That’s it. That’s my only shot.

It is still very early in the morning. The house is eerily quiet, and the halls stretch long and dark. My heart pounds as I sneak out of my room and tiptoe all the way down to Paula’s room barefoot. Paula’s door is cracked open just slightly, and I crouch beside it, barely breathing.

Her soft snores fill the air, and I catch my breath for a few seconds before slipping inside.

The room smells like powder and faint perfume. I crawl on my knees toward her bedside table. I slowly and carefully open all the drawers, scanning their contents. Nothing.

My heart drops in my stomach. I didn’t take this risk coming all the way down here for nothing.

I glance around the small room that is almost identical to mine, except for the few changes in interior decoration. The only other place the kit could be is in the adjoining bathroom. I slowly move toward the door.

“Stop it.”

My whole body freezes. My heart hammers against my chest. I’ve been caught. What explanation will I give for sneaking into her room?

I wait for a few seconds to be called out, but when I don’t hear anything, I slowly turn to look at Paula’s body on the bed, still asleep. Her lips are moving, but no words are coming out.

She talks in her sleep.

A heavy breath rushes out of my lips. I continue my journey to the bathroom, even more careful now. The moment I slip into the room, I see it on the sink. A thin pink box. Thank god. She hasn’t used it yet.

I grab it and creep back out, my hands shaking. The journey back to my room is easier and faster. The moment I get in, I lock the door behind me and rush to the bathroom. I tear open the box with trembling fingers and follow the instructions written on the box.

Even though I’ve never had a reason to do this before, it’s not hard. It’s terrifyingly easy.

I sit on the edge of the bathtub, waiting. A minute passes. Then two.

I stare at the two pink lines glaring back at me.