Deviant King (Royal Elite 1)

Her face hasn’t changed an inch since that day she took my small hand in hers and promised me a new life.

People believe in guardian angels, I believe in Aunt Blair and Uncle Jaxon.

“Sorry,” I smile back and take the bottle of mineral water she offers. “I’ve been thinking about a test.”

I do have a math test, but that’s not what’s occupying me right now.

Ugh. I hate lying to my aunt.

She pushes my bangs off of my forehead and behind my ear. Aunt and I are in yoga trousers. She’s wearing a sports bra while I’m in a sleeveless top. She shifted her mat so we’re facing each other instead of the green scenery of our back garden.

“You know we’re proud of you no matter what you do, right? It doesn’t have to be Cambridge if you don’t want to.” Her smile is warm but also pained.

Sometimes, I wonder if she sees my mother in my face. I’m becoming more and more a carbon copy of her.

“Blasphemy,” I laugh. “Don’t let Uncle Jaxon hear you say the words ‘no Cambridge’. Besides, I want Cambridge, Aunt. It’s my dream.”

She rolls her wedding band. “Don’t tell Jaxon and we’ll eat ice cream while watching a cheesy chick flick until we pass out.”

“Deal.”

We roll our mats, close the door against the garden’s chilly air and go inside.

Aunt lied about letting me eat as much ice cream as I want. She barely let me have two spoonfuls before her parent side took over. Ice cream isn’t good for my healthy food dosage.

We scroll through Netflix for ten minutes before we decide to re-watch Pride and Prejudice for the thousandth time.

The book is still better. Just saying.

Aunt answers her emails as we snuggle on the couch with popcorn — mine doesn’t have salt because... healthy.

Since Aunt came home today, Uncle will probably pull an all-nighter. Lately, they’ve been up to their necks in a new project. My heart squeezes knowing that I’ll be seeing less and less of them.

“You can work from your office, Aunt,” I offer.

“Nonsense.” She pulls me in so I’m leaning against her shoulder. “It’s girls’ night.”

We’re about half an hour in when I ask, “Aunt?”

“Hmm?” She glances at me then back at her phone.

“Have we lived in London before? I mean, my parents and I?”

She raises her head from her phone slowly, too slowly. “No. You were born and brought up in Birmi

ngham.”

That’s also what I know. Since that accident, my memories have been wiped clean, but I remember Birmingham. The copper air. The suffocating, grey atmosphere and the smell of a lake.

“Why would you think you lived in London?” Aunt has abandoned her phone and is staring at me with an unreadable expression.

“Nothing. I just wondered if we came to visit you at the time?”

“Your uncle and I studied at Cambridge at the time. We didn’t live in London until we started our business.”

“Yeah.” I smile awkwardly. “I’m just flipping things.”

Aunt faces me. The look on her face is still unreadable, but it brings back a distant memory when her nose scrunches and she asks me the same question she did when I woke up in the hospital. “Do you remember anything?”