THE ROYAL FLAME
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Thanks for reading The Royal Flame! I hope you enjoy it.
Please note that this book contains some dark themes that may be triggering for some readers.
CHAPTER 1
MADDISON
Reality is becoming harderto exist in, and it's been worse since I entered the Royal world. I had thought being a northsider came with complications, but this is a whole other level of complexity.
I'm waiting in Grey Devenport's living room for the DNA test results. I'm restless, tapping my foot up and down against the overly polished floor as I fidget with the watch on my wrist. The battery is dead, so River won't be able to track me. I want to call him and tell him I'm okay, but my potential new father has my phone. Or, well, one of his bodyguards has it…
I'm honestly not sure.
"Hey," I say to one of the men looming near the doorway. "Can I please have my phone? I need to make a call."
The man tosses me a tolerant look, then rotates away from me and overlaps his hands in front of him.
"Asshole," I mutter under my breath. I face forward on the sofa again. The material is soft against my skin, and the cushions are beyond comfortable. The room is massive with high ceilings, and the Royal City sparkles against the starry night just out the ceiling-to-floor windows. Grey has a lot of money, so if he is my father, that means…
Wait…
Could he be the anonymous person who paid for me to attend the Royal Academy?
That idea bounces around in my mind for a while. Eventually, I get up and start pacing the room, my jitteriness amplifying. It's been an hour since they swabbed my mouth for the DNA test. From everything I've heard, getting results for DNA tests can take weeks. But apparently, having money makes it quicker.
I pull a face at that. People are starving in the streets in northside, and Royals have enough wealth to throw away money on everything.
More time drones by, so I walk around the room, taking in the framed maps on the wall. Some are old, worn, and yellowing, while others appear freshly printed. Is Grey some sort of map collector? What is the term for that?
Why am I thinking about such insignificant things?
I stop in front of a particular one that’s unlike any layout of the world I’ve seen before. The spaces of land that make up the map are much bigger and differently shaped than what I’ve been taught about geography. It also has more islands. Five in particular capture my attention because each has a crown in the center, and all the crowns are different colors with a jewel theme that matches the island name. For example, Ruby Thorn Island has a ruby-embellished crown marking it. I recall how River told me the rose pendants Royal girls get when they’re younger and how they’re different colors, depending on their family name. Is there a connection between that and these islands? Or is this merely a decorative map?
The man who turned his back on me a few minutes ago suddenly enters the room. I turn around as he halts in front of me and sticks out his hand. My phone is in his palm. I snatch it up, but am wary at best.
"Mr. Devenport has permitted you to make a phone call to your friend River Averson," he informs me. "But only to let him know you're safe, so he'll remove the missing person's report he's filed."
"He's filed a missing person's report for me?" The question is rhetorical, but the bodyguard nods anyway.
The police won't look that hard for me, even if River files it. I'm eighteen years old and from northside, but my chest erupts with butterflies that someone cares enough about me to do that—to care that I'm missing.
I really like River. Grey said it was dangerous to be around him, but I'm not so sure I can give up the gothic prince that made me feel things I believed only existed in fairytales.
I dial River's number and then turn my back toward the bodyguard, who's watching me way too intensely for my liking.
"Maddy?" River answers after one ring.
"Yeah, it's me." I chew on my thumbnail. "I called to tell you I'm okay, and you can tell the police that too, so they won't look for me."
"Where are you?" he asks, his voice panic-stricken.
"I'm… I'm safe." I wish I could tell him more, and it's so frustrating that I can’t. "That's all I can tell you right now."
"Baby, I can't call off the search because you call and tell me you're safe. For all I know, someone could be making you say this."
