Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

“There is a coin.” He took a raspy breath. “The coin is the most valuable thing I own. Now you own it. It is buried…” he broke off, taking another breath. “It’s buried beneath a poem.”

“Uncle you’re not making any sense.” I worried his mind was deteriorating with his health. “Maybe you should rest, I’ll read you a poe—”

“Listen to me, Storybook!” He yelled, and I snapped my mouth shut.

My uncle never yelled.

“That coin grants wishes, but only one. Anyone in the Crowne world will understand what it means and does. If you ever need a wish granted, use it. Remember.” He grasped my wrist, and I was again struck with how much weight he’d lost, his fingers skeletal. “You only get one.”

My brows knitted.

A coin that granted wishes? Buried beneath a poem?

Hot tears bubbled up my throat.

This wasn’t fucking fair. My uncle was the smartest man I knew but he was l

osing his mind. I didn’t want to make him yell again, and I knew that trying to reason with a deteriorating mind was pointless.

“Why didn’t you use it?” I croaked.

His grip loosened, and he fell back against the bed, eyes closed. “I did. My wish was to give you a wish.”

I lifted my eyes, but my uncle had sunk back into his cushions, his breathing steady.

If the coin had been real, I knew my wish. But I somehow doubted even a magical coin could make him live longer.

I leaned against the closed door, head spinning with the day’s events. I pulled out my phone and scrolled and scrolled past various blogs and tweets. The video was trending.

My lungs felt like they were shriveling up inside my chest. What would my uncle think if he knew? And would this really be forgotten in the morning?

“You’re late.” I quickly scrambled off the door, finding Ms. Barn glaring at me.

“Just because you’ve slept in Grayson Crowne’s bed doesn’t mean you can lie around and do nothing. You’re Mrs. Grayson Crowne’s girl, and she’s waiting.”

Five

STORY

* * *

I went to go attend to Ms. du Lac—No, Mrs. Grayson Crowne—but I stayed outside for longer than I should’ve. Once again, my eyes fell to the bruise on my ring finger. I was supposed to help her into her lingerie. It was my job. I was nothing more than her girl.

But I’d fucked her husband—and now ruined her wedding because of it.

The Crownes wedding rituals dated back centuries, before they came to America, and that was one of the tamest. I shuddered, thinking about the ones that used to include me.

The door swung open and Lottie stopped short. She looked surprised to see me; then her smooth features faded into exasperation.

“You’re here.”

I lifted my head. “Mrs. Crowne.”

“Mrs. Grayson Crowne. I’m not his mother.”

I pursed my lips, nodding.

“I’ve been waiting an hour for you,” Lottie clipped. “I barely have any time to get ready before he comes.”