Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

I was almost at the servants’ quarters when Grayson’s cold voice drifted back. “Stay away from West, Story.”

I stopped short, fingers digging into the boxes until they crinkled.

“Or what?” I asked, refusing to turn around. “You’ve already done the worst thing you can ever do to me.”

Left me. Abandoned me. Forgot me. Chose her.

His hand was suddenly on my shoulder, pulling, as if trying to turn me around.

“Story…”

I nearly caved. Nearly let him pull me back, just to see the look on his face, what would accompany such an ache in his voice. But I dug deep for my dignity and yanked my shoulder free, disappearing down to the servants’ quarters.

I wound my way down the familiar tunnel to my uncle’s room. Some rumors say that the first Crowne believed in magic and built the secret doors and tunnels for ritual sacrifice, others say he built it to hide his mistress.

Either way, they’ve long been usurped for our purpose: servitude.

I knocked lightly on my uncle’s door. He was asleep, and I wasn’t going to wake him, so I just sat next to the bed, watching him. He looked so much smaller, frailer.

My mind drifted to Grayson. I don’t know why he punched West. I could think of a million reasons. It wasn’t like they ever got along.

A million reasons…and in all of them, none of them should include me. The woman who was most definitely not his wife.

“You breathe very loudly for someone who isn’t asleep.”

“Uncle!” I leaned forward. “You’re awake.”

“It’s hard to sleep through that noise.” He sat up.

You breathe like Hannibal.

I exhaled the sad memory through my nostrils. As if my uncle knew.

“When I die—” he started.

“Whoa.” I cut him off. “That’s an awful way to start this conversation.” Nausea swamped me at the thought.

“When I die,” he continued, “promise me you’ll leave.”

I wished he’d stop telling me he was dying.

“That’s not happening for a very long time, Uncle.”

He didn’t respond, but the way he rolled his lips told me everything. My gut sank. The one person I had left in this world was going to leave me.

He took my hands in his, eyes red.

My uncle never cried, but the tears were there, on the lids.

“I promise,” I choked out, the thought of leaving closing my throat. But once he was gone, there would be nothing for me here. No reason to stay.

He slowly withdrew his hands from mine. “There are things you need to know.”

“You keep talking like you’re leaving me. You still have so many months left in you,” I said weakly.

“I’m not leaving you with a fortune. I’ve saved a lot, and it will be enough to leave Crowne Point and to start over, not underneath someone’s foot.”

“I don’t mind it here…”