Page 1 of Her Wicked Knights (Their Hallowed Queen #3)

Tripp

Eight Years Old

"I don't want to grow up, though." Marley pouts, crossing her arms over her pink shirt that has cartoon cats eating ice cream on it.

"I don't think we get a choice." I tell her gently, because she looks so sad that I don't want to make it worse. "It's just the way it is."

"Well, it's stupid. I don't want things to change. I like them the way they are."

She drops her arms so that one hand rests between us, her fingers open enough that she looks like she's reaching for something.

I don't know why all of a sudden my heart sounds like a ton of wild horses thundering down a brick road, but I take her hand in mine.

It's something I've done a million times, but something about this time feels different.

Her hand is warm but not sweaty and it fits perfectly inside mine.

My fingers tingle with her touch, like she's got some kind of magic in her that makes everything inside me feel different.

"Me, too." I agree. "I never want us to change."

"We won't." She says, so confidently that I turn to take her in. She's pushed herself onto her side, our hands still clasped. "We'll always be like this, right? Best friends?"

"I hope so." I tell her.

I wish I could sound more confident, but the fact is I don't know if that's true.

I'm starting to realize that growing up means changing, and change is scary.

Colton's parents are divorcing, and that's terrifying.

He told us that he may have to move, that he doesn't know if he'll have to live with his mom or dad, that he may even go to another state.

We didn't get to discuss it long because his mom yelled for him to come home, and he went even though I can tell he didn't want to.

Marley's just stopped crying about it, and I haven't even had a chance to feel bad for Colton because I've been trying to get her to calm down.

"Best friends forever, Tripp. Promise?"

Her face is so solemn that I can't help smiling. "I promise."

There's no one I'd rather have as a best friend anyway. She lives right next door to me, which means we spend all of our time together, share dinner times sometimes, play until the streetlights come on and our moms yell out the front door for us to hurry back.

The streetlights will be coming on soon. We're lying in the grass, on the hill behind our houses. It's quiet out here, peaceful. It’s where we come to tell each other secrets that we don't want Hadley or Axel to overhear.

"I don't want to marry a stranger." She says suddenly, drawing me from my thoughts.

I blink, finding her staring at me seriously.

"I don't think that's how it works." I laugh. "I think you become friends first, and then you marry them."

I mean, that's how my parents explained it. But it's hard to imagine Colton's mom and dad were ever friends to begin with. I'm not sure they ever liked each other at all.

"Then I want to marry you." She decides.

That idea makes me feel warm inside despite the chill in the evening. But I don't want to look too eager. That wouldn't be cool, and I want her to think that I'm cool.

"I'm sure you'll find someone else before we can get married. That's like, ten years away."

"I won't." She shakes her head. "I don't want to marry anyone else. I want it to be you. And then we can live together and not have to go home when our moms call and we can have a sleepover every night."

It sounds perfect, the only good thing that could ever come out of growing up.

"I'd like that." I tell her. "But there's time to change your mind."

"I won't." Her voice gets whiny, the way it does when I'm not listening to her. "Promise me?"

"Fine." I smile, even though I could get up and do cartwheels here and now. "If you don't find anyone else you would rather marry, then we can get married."

She nods, looking a little pleased by my acceptance. "When can we do it?"

"I don't know. When we're old enough. Like... thirty?"

"That sounds really far away." She pouts again, her lower lip jutting out. "Like... forever."

"Yeah," I agree with a sigh.

She's right. It does sound really far away.

Marley sits up so fast that it pushes cold air down toward me, and I feel colder without her being so close.

She holds her hand out for me, but I stare at her a minute, waiting ‘til she huffs and shakes it in front of my face to place my hand in hers.

It feels good, like everything is right as she pulls me to my feet, but I let go of her hand and face her, waiting for whatever she wants to do.

But she only holds her hand out another minute.

"Give me your pocketknife."

My eyes go wide at the demand, and I glance toward our houses to make sure no one has heard her.

The pocketknife my grandfather gave me before he died is supposed to be in my dad's office until they decide I’m old enough to not cut myself on accident.

They don't know I carry it with me everywhere.

I like having a piece of my grandfather with me.

It's been a few months since he died, and I haven't seen him since he gave me this.

I consider telling her I don't have it, but she knows better.

Glancing over at our houses, I see that no one is there, so I slip it out of the pocket of my shorts and give it to her.

"Be careful." I warn. "I don't want you to get hurt."

She watches me curiously before finding the button. I can't stop her before she presses it, but thankfully she keeps her fingers out of the way as the blade pops out.

I don't know what she's doing at first, but then she puts the tip of the blade against her hand.

"Stop!" I tell her, moving to take it from her before she can get cut.

But she gets herself before I can stop her, and she doesn't so much as groan.

I watch as the thin line of blood appears on her skin, and I hate it.

I hate seeing her blood, knowing she's hurt, knowing that it makes her vulnerable.

I never want her to be any of those things.

Her lips purse as she finishes, determined, and then she looks up at me. "Swear it, Tripp. Make me a blood oath."

"A blood oath?" I ask, trying to decide if she's crazy. "Are you serious?"

"Of course." She hands the knife back to me. "I don't want to marry a stranger. I want you."

I want her, too. I want her to be my best friend forever, my girlfriend, my wife. Whatever she wants, I'll give it to her. I always have.

"Okay." I nod, taking the knife in my right hand and holding it over my left palm, just the same way she did. She watches me as I draw the blade across my skin.

It stings a little, but it's not too bad, especially because her fingers wrap around the hand I cut, holding it still until I'm done.

When I look from my hand to her, she's watching me.

I don't ask her what for, I just let her press her hand against mine, so that the blood on my hand mixes with the blood on hers as we hold onto each other.

"If we're not both married by the time we're thirty, we'll marry each other."

I nod, which makes her smile, but her eyes are still severe when she tells me “Now you say it."

I don't have to be told twice.

"If we're not both married by the time we're thirty, we'll marry each other. I swear."

She nods, content with that promise, and lets go of me. I wipe our blood off the blade and tuck it back in my pocket.

"I feel better now." She says, and she really does sound relieved. She throws her arms around me, giving me a hug that I usually don't return.

But this time, I do. I wrap my arms around her too, and I hold her like that until her mom props open the back door and calls her home.