Cruel King (Royal Elite 0)

I can tell him everything. Dad will probably notify the school, and then what? It was completely dark and they’re not stupid enough to leave evidence behind. It’d only cause more of their wrath.

Dammit. I can’t believe I’m cowering away from them this easily.

But what did strength give me aside from reliving my nightmare over and over again?

I can’t be thrust back into those horrible memories from the accidents. I just… can’t.

“Can you drop the case?” I ask in a low tone.

“Why?” Dad sounds suspicious. “You were so insistent on making them pay.”

“I just… it’s not worth it. I probably won’t remember.”

“Look at me,” he repeats, and I shake my head. “Astrid Elizabeth Clifford, are you or are you not going to remove that blanket?”

“I want to be alone.”

One moment I’m curled into the safety of my blanket, the next, I’m uncovered. I try to pull the cover over my head but Dad keeps it out of reach.

I face him and he freezes.

Oh, for the love of Vikings. My face must look like a hot mess.

“Why are you crying?” For one of the rarest times, Dad appears out of his element. Awkward even.

“Just… girl stuff.” I lie.

“Yeah. Right. Of course,” he says slowly. “Do you want me to bring Victoria?”

“No!” I snatch my blanket and hide under it. “Can you call the school and tell them I won’t make it?”

“Sure.” There’s an awkward silence before a warm hand pats my shoulder over the blanket. “Call me if you need anything.”

And with that, he’s out of the door. I resist the urge to call after him.

In the few minutes he was here, I wasn’t sucked into that endless thinking circle.

I close my eyes and pray for sleep.

By the afternoon, I feel a bit better. It probably has to do with how I spent most of the day sleeping.

I annoyed Sarah in the kitchen.

I’m thankful that Victoria has a gathering with other lords’ wives and Nicole will be at school all day.

It’s one of those rare, peaceful days.

Since Sarah doesn’t like anyone in her space, she kicks me out with a chocolate smoothie and a ruffle of my hair.

I lounge by the pool with my sketchpad in hand. My lips purse and my brows scrunch together as I stare at what I spent the last thirty minutes sketching.

Levi.

The lines are a mere draft, but it’s his outline. It’s his side profile and those merciless, pale blue eyes.

I can’t believe he’s the first actual sketch I made in freaking months. I’m about to rip the paper when a familiar voice calls.

“Hey, bugger!” Dan’s footsteps sound from the pool’s door. I thought he had late practice today. He must’ve ditched after I texted that I wasn’t coming to school because I’m sick.