House of Royals(23)

“You must be new in town,” she says, studying me with the tilt of her head. “I don’t recognize you, and I know pretty much everyone in Silent Bend.”

“Oh,” I say. My heart has suddenly taken up residence in my throat. “I’m just visiting.”

“I see,” she says with a knowing smile. “You must be Elsa’s cousin. She said you were coming.”

“Yep,” I lie, interlacing my fingers between my knees uncomfortably. “Elsa’s cousin.”

“That Elsa is a sweet girl,” she says, crossing her legs and looking out over the quiet street. A man on the sidewalk on the other side of the road glances in our direction and then does a double take. His pace quickens.

“Uh huh,” I say. My instincts kick in and I’m fighting the urge to run. I should have grabbed a stake from the van. But I’m an idiot, and I’ve got nothing.

“You know, in a small town like this,” she continues. “You have to be careful. Everyone is always up in everyone’s business and they all think they know you without knowing you. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I think so.” My breathing has picked up and my eyes are searching the shops around us. Which one did Ian say he was going into? Can he see me right now? I’m sure not, otherwise he’d probably be flying through the streets, stake in hand, no matter who witnessed.

“Cause you know, there’s two sides to every story. Have you heard the story about the Hanging Tree?” She looks down the street to the dead tree at the end of the road. And then she looks back at me, except I can’t see her eyes through the glasses.

“No, not really,” I manage to get out.

“About two hundred years ago, this town was dying. There were only a few hundred people here, trying to make a living off the river shrimp. But the bugs, the swamps, and the lack of money kept people away. People weren’t surviving. Things were looking bad, and people started moving away from Silent Bend. Then two brothers came to town, bringing with them all kinds of money. They started two plantations. Created jobs. Started pushing that money back into the community. The town and the people flourished, thanks to these brothers.” The dog finally sits next to the woman, staring vigilant out at the passers by.

“But something strange and unexplainable happened. Something out of the brothers’ control. To the town there was only one explanation. The brothers. So they came after one of them. Attacked him and killed him. Tied him up, gagged his dead body. They dragged him to that tree. And they hanged him up with three of his closest friends.”

I swallow hard, looking out into the street, but not seeing any of it.

“They tried to burn the other brother alive in his home. These two brothers, whose houses had done nothing but save this town, were rewarded with death and destruction.

“So you see, you can not always believe everything you hear,” she says, looking back at me. I’m at once terrified of her and wildly curious to learn more. “Especially in sleepy little towns like this one.”

Suddenly she stands, and there’s not a single hint of the injury she sustained earlier. No limp, no favoring. She stands tall and sure.

“It was nice to meet you, Alivia Ryan,” she says with a little smile. Teddy shifts around, ready to leave. “If you ever want to hear more sides to more stories…”

She drops something on the bench. I look down at it and back up, only to find her nowhere to be seen.

On the bench, right next to me, are two envelopes. I pick them up. One is simple and on the front it reads For when you have the time to learn some more family history. It’s thick, like there are several pages inside. I set it in my lap and turn to the other envelope. The paper is expensive, with a slight shimmer to its linen color. My name is written on the front in beautiful handwriting. I turn it and confirmation freezes in my veins.

From Jasmine Veltora and the House of Silent Bend.

I’d seen sitting with the stand-in House queen.

But she hadn’t attacked. She hadn’t tried to drag me off. Hadn’t done anything.

There are two sides to every story.

I slide my finger along the wax seal, popping it. From the envelope, I pull a thick piece of paper.

You have been cordially invited to the House’s annual Summer Founders Ball. Black-tie attire required. Saturday, August 29th, 9:00 PM. Town hall.

There are two sides to every story. And suddenly I’m dying to know them both.





“YOU’VE GOT ONE MORE WEEK,” I tell Ian after we get back to his house that evening, just before he’s about to leave to go to work. “One more week and then I’m going home.”