Twisted Kingdom (Royal Elite 3)

She frowns. “Aren’t you happy?”

“I am.”

“Then why do you look sad?”

Because if her dad helps me, I won’t see her again.

Mum never spent a day without me, and now that I’ve been away for a long time, she won’t allow me to go outside again. My father will do that, too.

Meaning, I won’t see Elsa any time soon.

“Smile.” She places her index fingers on either side of my mouth and pulls.

“Do you want me to go?” I ask.

She nods frantically. “I don’t want to see you bleeding and cold.”

“If I go, I won’t come back.”

“Why not? You can come back. We’re friends.” Her bottom lip trembles. “Right?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to come back.”

“I’ll tell Daddy to take me to you.”

“Your dad doesn’t like my dad.”

“I don’t care. I like you. Daddy gives me everything I like.” Her fingers run in my hair. “Tonight, you won’t be hurt anymore. Wait for me, okay?”

She reaches into her dress’s pocket and I’m not surprised when she retrieves a small bag of Maltesers and stuffs it in my hand. “I’ll give them to you.”

She stands, then crouches back down and places a peck onto my cheek. “Wait for me.”

I do.

After she’s gone, I sit on the filthy floor, watching the door and the Maltesers she left in my hands.

I’ll eat them when she returns. Maltesers are too sweet and I don’t like them much, but I haven’t told her that. Elsa’s so enthusiastic about them and I like watching her eat them. Besides, she loves it when I share the chocolate balls with her.

My eyes flutter closed and my skin turns warm then cold, but I don’t sleep. I think about Mum and how happy she’ll be when I go back. Maybe Jonathan will take us somewhere and make Mum happy.

The door barges open.

I jump to my feet. It’s not Elsa.

The red woman strolls inside, clutching a horsewhip in her hands.

She’s wearing a long, sleeveless, red dress. Her golden hair falls to her shoulders and her lips are painted in bright red. Even her heels are red.

Like blood.

Mum used to tell me about the power of the darkness. She said the real monsters look more beautiful than angels.

The red woman is as beautiful as the angel in our garden.

I shrink into the corner, tightening my hold on the bag of Maltesers. The sound of the red woman’s shoes comes closer.

“Eli… Mummy is back.”