No Such Queen (Bloody Royals Book 2) by CoraLee June

Author:CoraLee June [June, CoraLee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-02-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

CHRISTINE

My childhood home was falling apart. No one had bothered to maintain it these years, and it broke my heart to see it so run down. The concrete stairs leading up to the front steps were cracked and weathered, the paint peeling on the trim. The grass was as tall as my waist and was dying from the fall weather. I could see my mother’s garden that I’d always admired as a child, but its beauty was lost behind the vines.

The vines had overrun the house, their crimson leaves and deep purple blooms pushing up past the windowsills and clinging to the screens to block the view inside. The flowers were clinging to life but would be dead soon. Another few brisk morning chills, and the petals would fall. The leaves would turn brown and fall to the ground.

I could see the marble statuary of the fountain in the front, and the ivy had wrapped itself around the stone wolf I remembered from my childhood. The vines had grown even taller than the fountain, and I couldn’t see beyond them. My mother’s garden overwhelmed the gray brick with wild abandon, granting her a sense of freedom even in death. She’d always loved these beautiful flowers and had tended to them with such care and compassion. I wished she could see how beautifully they’d grown. My mother loved untamed things; maybe it’s why I struggled so much with feeling controlled.

I pulled my hood tighter over my head and clutched it close. The leaves crunched under my boots as I made my way to the back door and slid my skeleton key into the lock. To my surprise, the door opened, revealing a time capsule of my childhood.

The wooden floors creaked with every step, and I dragged my hand along the old yellow wallpaper my father hated. Sheets covered the furniture in the sitting room. The sunlight came in through the windows, but the light was muted by the blood-red leaves and purple flowers clinging to the screens, blocking out the sun and casting a deep gloom over the room.

The air was unfamiliar, like the onset of winter—cold and dank.

The kitchen was overrun with cobwebs, and the counters were covered in dead flies. The leaves had invaded there too. The vines were on the countertops, crawling toward the cabinets and the ceiling. The molding was gunked up with paint, and the once-goddess room showed its age. Most of the paint had peeled off of the walls and showed the wooden slats. The room was dark, with a dark wood floor and dark brown walls. The curtains were thin and tattered, hanging haphazardly around the window.

It all looked so depressing and run-down.

I pulled out the burner phone I’d bought with money I’d stolen. The weight of it felt heavy in my palm, but I knew what I needed to do.

I dialed a phone number I memorized during my days of waiting for Atticus to return, the numbers a drone in my mind. A cold voice answered on the third ring.

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