Chapter 6
Ashton
Idon’t like how Duncan Laz looks at me. Or Spencer.
Usually, when someone looks at me in a way that I don’t appreciate, I say something. Sometimes I use passive aggression, sometimes it’s outright aggression. I know who I am, and I’m confident enough to stand up to just about anyone.
But Duncan is another story. I hurt his daughter.
And he works for the King of Laandia, a country which I am not a citizen of.
I’ve met King Magnus, and he’s a cool guy. He lets me stay at the castle whenever I’m in town, and I’ve even gone out drinking with him. But this was before I caused injury to one of his subjects.
Not only that, but the daughter of his best friend.
Duncan looks at me like I’m no better than gum scraped off the bottom of his Amberjack boots, and I’d be an idiot not to be worried.
He could have me deported. He could have me arrested.
Neither would be a good thing, but any sort of driving charge against me would really not be a good thing. I’ve managed to avoid talking to the police so far, but if Duncan gets involved…
Or Spencer. We were friendly when we were on The Suitorette, but he’s a lawyer and Sophie is his sister.
When I finally escape from Sophie’s room, I head straight back to my hiding place, a little waiting room on the fourth floor of the hospital.
I could leave; I could go to Fenella’s and hide out there for a while. Silas would bring me coffee and I could sleep. But all my things are at the castle, and without Gunnar there to block any bad vibes…
I don’t even have a car to get back to the castle, since Fenella wisely took the Charger away from me.
Is there a Sophie-sized dent in the front of it? I didn’t even check.
I feel sick about the whole thing. Or maybe that’s because I haven’t eaten anything other than a fried egg sandwich about seven o’clock this morning. Sophie is fine. She said it herself. She certainly looks fine, albeit pale.
There’s a bruise on her cheek. I did that.
The sick is from shame, not hunger. I know this, but I can’t dwell on this because I can’t do anything. I don’t know what to do.
I sent Basher back to the castle last night. This was for his benefit. There has been a lot of publicity about the band these days because of the singer’s love life, and having Basher at the scene of an accident where they clearly think I had been drinking wouldn’t be good for anyone.
I made him promise not to tell anyone he was with me.
Fenella is there when I get back from Sophie’s room. Even though I ache in every muscle of my body and haven’t slept because of the beeping alarms and rustling footsteps, I couldn’t bring myself to leave the hospital last night.
And because Fenella is there beside me, I finally let myself drift off while she doomscrolls, trying to find out if anyone posted anything about Sophie or me or last night.
Of course, that’s when the police finally show up.
“Ashton?” I open bleary eyes to see Fenella shaking my arm. “Wake up. The police want to talk to you about the accident.”
That wakes me up. “Sophie? How is she?” I demand.
Two police officers stand at attention—a tall and burly man who looks only a few years older than me, and an older woman with a bad haircut and a frown.
“Ashton Carrington,” the woman begins.
“That’s me.” I’m too tired, scared and hungry to turn on the charm, which I should do because these are the police and technically, I might have committed a crime.
“You were driving the car that struck Sophie Laz last night at approximately ten-thirty- six p.m.?”
“I didn’t know the time, but yes. That was me.”
Fenella sucks in her breath. I don’t know what true crime podcast she’s been listening to because I get that she doesn’t think I should have admitted anything, but I can’t take the chance that they might think she—
“Fen said you weren’t drinking,” the male police officer interrupts my inner monologue.
Fen? Is he a friend of Fenella’s? Before I can ask, Fenella leans over. “Jonathon McKibbon,” she whispers. “Kate’s brother and a friend of Kalle’s.
Kate McKibbon—best friend of Princess Lyra and executive assistant to the royal family.
Kalle—Prince Kalle, heir to the Laandian throne, and onetime admirer—beau? date?—of my sister.
I’m not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that Prince Kalle is friends with this police officer.
I know all the royal family because I’ve been friends with Gunnar for years, and I’ve gotten to know them really well lately since I’ve been staying in the castle.
Fenella’s place is nice enough, but me and Basher got tired of sleeping there.
The new hotel isn’t open yet, and I don’t trust Airbnbs.
Gunnar took pity on me and let me stay in one of the many guest rooms at the castle, even when he travels with his girlfriend Stella.
Who is Sophie’s sister.
Everyone is so connected to each other in this town, and it all seems to lead back to the castle. Back to Duncan Laz, hand of the king and father of Sophie, Stella, and brother Spencer, who is a lawyer and one of my fellow contestants on The Suitorette.
I like Duncan, but I bet he’s going to be…
Let’s say he’s not going to be pleased with me.
I shake my head, going back to the question hovering in the air like a patch of methane gas.
“Were you drinking?” the female officer demands.
“I wasn’t, as the breathalyzer and blood test you forced me to take can attest to.”
Fenella puts a hand on my arm. Yes, I should probably sound more pleasant, but I can’t bring myself to.
“What about drugs?” By squinting slightly, I can make out C. Crow on the tag on her chest.
Crow. I recognize that name too. She must be some relation of Mabel’s. Again—not sure if that’s a good thing or not.
“I think the blood test would show if I had drugs in my system,” I snap.
“Yeah, but you could have some fancy new drugs that wouldn’t show up,” she pushes, matching my attitude with one of her own.
“You think there’s fancy drugs like that?” I scoff. “Here? In this place?”
Her expression sours even more. “We can do a tox screen to confirm.”
“I’m not a liar,” I say with a tight smile. “If I had been drinking, or using drugs, I’d say so.”
“And you would most likely be staring at the inside of a jail cell,” she points out nastily.
I shrug. They can do all the tests they want, but they won’t find anything.
“How fast were you driving?” C. Crow asks, her frown reaching the furrow between her dark eyes.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what time it was, or the speed at which I was driving.”
“But it was fast.”
“I drive race cars for a living. I can handle speed.”
“Do you often race cars along the icy roads of Laandia? Because those conditions would be a lot different from any racetrack.”
I don’t say anything because she’s right.
“We had a report from an address on Second Street about a yellow Charger driving at high speeds last night,” C. Crow reports.
Fenella glances at Jonathon with a frown. “Nathalia,” he says and gets a reproachful glare from Crow.
“However fast she reported, it was exaggerated,” Fenella says in a cool voice that sounds too much like our mother for my liking. “She recognized my car. She hates me,” she says under her voice. “I got her fired.”
“Great. Good job. I wasn’t going that fast,” I tell the officers. “And Sophie—” my voice hitches. “Sophie just appeared in the middle of the road. I saw her, and I jammed on the brakes, but there was ice…”
“And you failed to control the vehicle, and the result was that you struck down Ms. Laz.”
“You make it sound worse than it is,” I say flatly.
Silence, save for the sounds of the hospital, which are many.
“It is pretty bad, Ash,” Fenella murmurs.
I look at her, and then the frowning face of PC Crow. “Do I need a lawyer?”
“Probably wouldn’t hurt,” Crow says, with the first hint of a smile.
I drive fast for a living. I know how to control a vehicle. But Sophie… she was just there, and I couldn’t stop it from happening. I stopped the car, but not soon enough.
Every time I look at Sophie, I feel really bad.
I mean, really bad.
I accidentally drove over Milo’s foot years ago, and I thought I felt bad about that. This is so much worse.
Because Sophie is so sweet and nice, and she’d never hurt a fly.
And I caused her pain. Her foot is broken.
Granted, I’m not exactly sure how the car running into her upper thigh broke two of her toes and turned the rest of her foot into what looks like an eggplant being left out in the sun for too long.
I’m not really sure what that would look like, but I can imagine it would be purple and puffy.
And I know the car didn’t hit her very hard because there was no Sophie-sized dent and the only thump was Sophie’s hand slapping against the hood.
I saw that. I saw her standing there, then her hand thunked on the hood like she was trying to grab hold, and then she was gone, dropped to the ground.
It all happened so fast, but the images are taking a long time to fade from my mind.
Sophie says she doesn’t hold me responsible, and that’s a relief, but what if she changes her mind? What if someone changes it for her?
What if she decides that Ashton Carrington deserves to be taught a lesson for excessive speed and negligence? What then?
I can call my father for ideas. This isn’t something I ever look forward to doing, but this might be a DEFCON 3 moment. Maybe 4.
I shift uncomfortably on the couch as my father’s assistant gets him on the phone. I had to say it was an emergency before she agreed.
It’s a few minutes before Eton Carrington says hello.
He actually never says the word hello. “What happened?” he demands.
My father isn’t a demanding man; he’s the billionaire head of Carrington Toys and expects his requests, orders, and advice to be followed without question, but he’s well past the need to demand anything.
But when I call, he almost sounds worried. “I’m fine, Fen’s fine,” I tell him quickly, just in case he is worried. I saw Duncan’s reaction to Sophie being in the hospital, after all. “I got into a little accident, is all.”
“Were you hurt?”
“No. But I… I kind of hit someone. It’s more like a bump into, rather than a hit, and she’s fine… a broken foot and maybe a concussion—”
Dad sighs. “Then what’s the problem?”
“She… ah… she’s the daughter of the king of Laandia’s advisor.”
“You ran over Duncan Laz’s daughter?”
“I didn’t run over her. There was no running over. She was in the street, and it was icy—”
“How fast were you going?”
“Not very fast.”
“How fast?” I give him a number, and he hisses between his teeth. “Did anyone see you?”
“Someone might have reported my driving to the police. Apparently this woman is a real Karen, and recognized Fen’s car and doesn’t like Fenella because she got her fired—”
“Jesus, Ashton. I thought Laandia was a quiet place, and here you both are making trouble. Are the police involved?”
“They talked to me this morning. I didn’t do anything wrong—”
“Sounds like you’re the only one to see it that way.”
“Yeah. Maybe. I apologized to Duncan—”
“You admitted you were at fault? Ashton, what have I told you?”
“Deny unless proven guilty. It’s only because I know Sophie. We’re sort of… kind of… friends.”
Is that the truth? Am I friends with Sophie Laz?
I think she’s cute, but too quiet. She smiles all the time. At everyone.
Including me.
I’ve talked to her a few times, but I don’t really know her. Friends might be a stretch.
I did dance with her when she visited the set of The Suitorette. That was the day before I got sent home, so maybe she’s bad luck for me.
I’d say she’s bad luck.
“You know her,” Dad says as I’m trying to convince myself Sophie and I are merely acquaintances.
“That’s the only good thing about this mess.
You need to make sure she doesn’t charge you.
Or sue you. I don’t know the law in Laandia, but it is entirely possible.
And we do not need another lawsuit, Ashton. ”
I picked up on the note of warning in his voice. A person hard-of-hearing could pick it up. “How do I do that?” I ask cautiously.
“She’s a friend of yours. Use that. Convince her.” His words are clipped and confident. I wish I felt like that. “Make her fall for you if you have to.”
Did my father just tell me to— “What? No.”
“Is that not possible?” His patronizing tone sounds familiar. As in, I think I use the same tone at times.
“Well, yeah. Sure… I can…”
“That’s it then,” Dad says. “Make her fall in love with you to ensure she won’t charge you with reckless driving. Because I don’t have to tell you what that will do to your career, Ashton.”
And then he hangs up.