Page 42 of Uncrowned

No. I couldn’t let that happen. Penelope would stay with me. She was mine. I’d have to keep her here until I had no doubts. Maybe it would take years… A decade or more. I could wait it out for her. I could⁠—

“V?”

“You’re not a monster. They deserved far worse than the deaths they were gifted. If I hadn’t been worried about you, I would have made them suffer far worse than they did.”

She grew quiet, and I blinked through the sting of sweat in my eyes. Aggravated, I stood.

“Bed. Mask.”

Penelope only hesitated a moment. She placed in her bookmark, setting the book down. When she headed to the bed, I met her there.

“Arms up. Spread your legs.”

Alarm flashed. “You’re going to put back on the cuffs? Did I do something wrong?”

I didn’t explain. I couldn’t with the way my pulse was racing.

I secured the cuffs on her ankles, moving to her wrists. I didn’t dare look into her over-expressive eyes. The mask was by her pillow and I grabbed it, sliding it on her face. The moment I had it secured, I pulled off my own mask, breathing heavily through my nose. The cool air had my lids closing as I tried to slow the heartbeats that kept slamming into my chest.

“V, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Penelope.”

“What were you working on. Is there anything I can do to help?”

A frown and smile fought. She was forever thoughtful. She always seemed to be worried for me. Her heart was so big. In a matter of weeks or even days, I was going to start killing pieces of it. She wouldn’t be the same woman by the time I finished. How was that fair? How could I do that to her? To me… no… for me.

“What do you know of history. Of the past?”

Her lips pressed together as she seemed to think.

“How far into the past?”

Too soon.

“In general. I’m not looking for a specific year. Just… the past.”

“Hmm” Teeth bit into her lip, and I couldn’t tear my gaze from the little quirks that lured me in.

“Well, I know the Crown has been unstable for quite some time.” My eyes jerked up, but I stayed quiet as she continued. “It’s always one war after the next. Or, if we’re talking more recent, the threatening of them, anyway. My family—my father.” She made a small sound, and I wasn’t sure if it was a sigh or cry. “My father was hung up on the past. We used to be titled. Did you know that?”

“Yes.”

She gave a small nod at my soft reply.

“I assumed you knew. Everyone does. It’s all my parents ever talked about. It’s why they were so determined to have me marry a title. To… get ours back, in a way. It wouldn’t, of course, but our line would carry on, back where it needed to be. I used to get so angry when they’d talk about it. I hated the thought for a long time, honestly, and even considered somehow sabotaging it any way I could.” She stopped. “But… how unfair would that be to my own children if I were to do that? The Taylor name, it once held such prestige. Such worth. One day, the pride just settled inside of me. I saw my parents’ desperation, even if I hated what they did to me because of it. But I respected what we’d once been. Or what we could be again if I…if I did what was right.”

I sat on the edge of the bed.

“What do you know of how your family lost its title? That happened roughly, what, two hundred years ago?”

Even though I asked, I knew the exact date. It was four months after my family had been betrayed and renamed The Black Line.

“My father used to tell me stories on how Old King Evans got in over his head. Sorry, I think he was referred to as King David at the time, but I’m going to call him by his last name because I can’t be sure. I was so young when I heard the stories. The only history they really cared for was the part I was going to fix. Anyway, my father used to say a lot of blood was spilt during those days. That we were lucky we even survived.”

She swallowed hard, continuing. “So many were accused of being traitors. King Evans even supposedly told my great-great-great-however-many-ago grandfather that we’d get our title back the moment we proved our innocence. We were innocent, my father claimed. It was all hearsay back in those days. Evidence was staged. Nobility was framed. My father said it was dark times. So many wanted to kill King Evans because the Crown was so unstable. He was issuing new titles, destroying old ones. Anyway, my father said we found evidence. Before our innocence was proven, the king died.”

“Really.”