Maeve sighs. “I mean, most stories, the stepsister is an evil bitch.”
“True, but the way Lucian describes her, I have a tiny bit of hope that she won’t be.”
“For your sake, I hope she’s not. You’ve dealt with enough.”
The car smellslike leather and something expensive I can’t name. The seats are too soft, like they’re trying to lull me into comfort, but all it does is make me feel more out of place.
Maeve’s beside me in the backseat, chewing on a piece of gum and bouncing her leg like we’re headed to a field trip.
Lucian sits up front with the driver, occasionally glancing back to check on us.
I grip my new duffel bag in my lap like I’m holding onto reality itself. Like if I let go, this will all slip away. When we pull through the gates and onto the private airstrip, I pinch myself.
“Holy shit,” Maeve whispers, pressing her face to the window. “That’s a jet.”
Not just any jet. Sleek, white, and shining in the morning sun like something out of a spy movie. It looks like it’s never known the words coach or economy.
My eyes widen. “We’re flying in that?”
Lucian turns in his seat and nods. “Yes. It’s more comfortable this way.”
“I’ve never even been on a plane,” my voice barely above a whisper.
He studies me for a beat. “Then I’m glad your first flight will be one where you’re safe.”
Maeve practically has her head out of the window. “There’s a carpet. There’s a literal carpet on the tarmac.”
The car stops. The driver opens my door before I can find words.
Lucian steps out and offers me a hand.
Maeve follows, spinning once to take it all in. “God, this is some movie shit.”
“I don’t belong here,” I murmur, my feet sticking to the ground.
Lucian turns to face me. “You do. Whether you believe it yet or not.”
Behind him, a steward is already loading my bags. Another person waits at the foot of the stairs to the jet.
Maeve nudges my arm. “Go. Live it up. I’ll hold it down back home. I’m going to call and text you every single day until you block me.”
I turn to her, heart lodged in my throat. “I’d never block you. You sure you’ll be okay?”
She shrugs, but her eyes are glassy. “You’re the one getting on a spaceship, Isobel. I’ll be fine.”
I pull her into a hug that doesn’t feel long enough.
“I’m going to miss you,” I whisper into her hair, the tears welling.
“Not as much as I’m going to miss you.” She sniffles.
“Ride or die, forever.”
“Ride or die, forever.”
When I turn back to Lucian, he’s watching us with a softness in his gaze.
“You ready?” he asks.
