18. Juliette
JULIETTE
A modern-day cursed queen with ice in her veins, wearing a crown forged from the bones of those she’s killed.
Death by Pilates: her favorite way to watch them go.
She smells of roses and arsenic, and when the princess disappoints her—which is often—she flashes those bright red talons. The princess often wonders if one day she’ll dig them into her chest and rip out her heart, the same way she does to all the other people who annoy her.
Just another casualty bleeding in the name of perfection.
“ W elcome home, Baby Calloway.”
My cousin Tyler drops his arm across my shoulders, dragging me out of my head, where I was busy crafting the perfect villain origin story for my mother.
The smell of vodka is strong on his breath. So strong, in fact, that it makes my nose scrunch.
“Ugh,” I complain, elbowing him in the side. “You reek, Ty.”
Tyler grins cheekily at me, his strawberry-blond hair dropping across his forehead. “Just celebrating your homecoming.”
“I don’t know why. Nobody else is here for me.”
Tyler’s smile falters, and he squeezes me tighter to his side.
I’ve been poked and prodded until my hair is perfect, and my makeup is flawless, and the whole time, I’ve been trying my best not to stew in the fact that none of my brothers have even come by to say hi, and I have no real friends in the area until next week when Felicity comes home. Hopefully sans her boyfriend Keagan.
At least my dress is pretty. I run my hands over the soft pink fabric.
The late-afternoon sun casts a bright glow over the courtyard, and the light catches on deep, purplish-black shading underneath Tyler’s eye.
I jerk forward, gripping his chin and yanking him closer. “What happened?”
Tyler flinches before covering it up with a smirk. He taps me on the head like I’m a pet and coos, “Don’t worry your pretty little heart about it.”
“I can’t just not worry about it now that I’ve seen it.”
“Sure you can,” he replies, gesturing toward the groups of dressed-up people scattered around the pool in the middle of the courtyard. “Just pretend you’re like every other member of your family.”
I frown. “ Our family, you mean. And that’s not fair.”
“Things usually aren’t.”
Scoffing, I cross my arms. “Have you been fighting with Lance again?”
It’s not out of the ordinary—at least, it didn’t used to be.
It’s possible that things have changed in my absence.
Back when I was growing up, though, he and Lance were always attached at the hip, for better or for worse.
They used to spend weekends practicing everything they learned in their Jeet Kune Do class, then trudging through the place with goose eggs on their foreheads and deep bruises on their ribs.
Tyler snorts. “Lance wishes he could land a punch like this.”
I smirk at him, because Lance could beat the shit out of him. I don’t know anyone Lance couldn’t fight and win. He’s been trained since he was five years old, and although Tyler’s got repressed anger issues that could put down an elephant, fighting is Lance’s outlet; it always has been.
“So, it’s not from him?” I push.
Tyler’s grin drops. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“And I want to wake up with a mother who loves me,” I reply sarcastically. “Tough shit.”
He sighs. “I may or may not have gotten into an argument with Benjamin Voltaire, remember him? Fucking Montgomery trash .”
Tyler spits the last name out like a curse, but it isn’t surprising to me. He hates the Montgomerys on principle, and when it comes to Benjamin—the guy who’s dating his sister—sometimes I swear his anger outweighs even my dad’s.
“And he hit you?” I inspect his black eye. “For what?”
“Because he’s a piece of shit, Juliette.” He lets out another sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “I tried to talk to Rosalie, and he…intervened.”
“ What ?” My voice sharpens. “He wouldn’t let you talk to your own sister? What did Rosalie do?”
He gives me a look. “Just sat there and stared at me with those big puppy dog eyes.”
I frown. “That doesn’t sound like her.”
“Yeah.” Tyler’s jaw tenses. “I don’t know what he’s done to her, but it’s like she’s not even there anymore. She just smiles, and nods, and lets him pull her strings. It’s pathetic.”
He glances around and then lifts his shirt.
My eyes widen when I see the gun at his waist in a holster. “What the hell is that, Ty? Do you even know how to use a gun?”
He shrugs. “Protection.”
“I can’t believe you brought that here.”
“Preston here yet?” he replies, peering around with his hand over his eyes.
He’s clearly trying to change the subject, and it works.
I scowl. “How did you hear about that already?”
He smirks. “I know everything that goes on around here. Besides, Preston’s got a big mouth; he’s been spouting off for weeks that he’s about to ‘claim’ you again.”
“Yeah, I saw the Rag .”
I glance around the courtyard.
Paxton’s under the covered patio talking with a few people I’ve never seen, and Alex is leaning against the Roman-style column next to him, smiling like he hasn’t got a care in the world.
Rude that they’re here and yet they haven’t even come by to say hi.
My mother flits around in another one-of-a-kind outfit, a gorgeous, emerald summer gown this time, laughing at something Mayor Penngrove is saying.
I’m sure both her and my father are using this as an opportunity to blackmail people into donating to his campaign so they can keep him in power.
He’s been in my dad’s pocket for years; no reason for that to change now.
“Where is Lance?” I ask.
I skim the area again like maybe I just missed him.
Tyler shrugs, but he avoids my eyes. “You know he doesn’t like coming to these things.”
“Yeah, but…”
It’s me.
I don’t say the last part out loud, but I guess I’m showing it on my face, because Tyler gives me a pitying look and says, “Lance is a dick.”
Suddenly, he clicks his tongue and gestures toward the giant sliding doors leading to the veranda. “Speak of the devil…”
I follow where he’s pointing, relief whipping through me when Lance appears in the crowd. He’s not alone; his best friend Art is right there by his side, and as they get closer, I do a double take.
Art was always kind of scrawny and scrappy, but that’s definitely changed. Now he’s broad shouldered, his auburn hair perfectly styled, and his tailored suit fitted perfectly to his body.
He looks just like his dad, Mayor Penngrove.
“Art’s…different,” I note.
Tyler snorts. “Trying to be more like his dad every day.”
I choke on my drink.
“Art?” I clarify. “Like his father ?”
Art has always hated that his dad was in politics. Used to joke frequently about how he’d become an anarchist just to say “fuck you” to the system and ensure his father couldn’t force him into following in his footsteps.
Tyler grimaces. “Unfortunately.”
My mouth drops open when Art pats Lance on the back and then jogs over to stand next to his dad.
“You think Lance and Art are…?” Tyler continues.
“Are…what?” I reply.
“You know.” He sticks his finger through the hole he’s made with his other hand lewdly, wiggling his brows. “Lovahs.”
I scoff. “God, who cares? This is why you get black eyes.”
“Hey, I’m not judging. I’m just asking .” He shrugs, lifting his hands in the air.
“You’re being a prick.”
I turn my sights back on Lance. I haven’t technically seen much of my brothers since getting back, but the rest of them I talk to frequently enough where it doesn’t feel like we’ve become complete strangers.
Lance is a different story.
It’s like I don’t know him at all anymore, which makes me sad because we used to be the closest.
I keep watching him and waiting for him to search the crowd to find me. Maybe give me a quick “I missed you.”
But Lance doesn’t even look in my direction.
All of my brothers treat me the same: like I’m furniture, decoration, good to be on display but not good enough for anything else.
Lance’s frown is intense as he leans in and says something to Paxton and Alex, and then Alex nods and disappears inside.
“Why is everyone in our family so goddamn rude?” I mutter, trying to hide the hurt in my voice.
“What am I, chopped liver?” Tyler asks like I’ve offended him.
I grin, patting his cheek. “Never. Your loyalty is why you’re my favorite cousin.”
He smirks. “Exactly. I expect you to remember this moment when others try to tell you they love you more.”
When Lance and Paxton disappear around the side of the house, Tyler’s gaze follows them. “Stay put, okay?”
“I’m not a dog,” I mutter into my champagne, even though the second Tyler gives me a sharp look, I cower like one.
“Fine,” I relent.
He stalks off toward wherever my brothers just went, and I lean against the bar, taking another sip of my drink before setting it down.
“I’ll just wait here!” I yell sarcastically to Tyler’s back, irritation ringing in my ears.
This is ridiculous. In fact, the longer I stand by myself with not a single person coming over to say hello, the more pissed off I get.
Where did they all go?
When Preston makes an appearance, my mother’s loud fake laugh ringing through the air, I panic, pushing through the partygoers and following the path Tyler just took to find my brothers.
My mother watches me closely, her lips tight and her eyes like daggers, but I just smile her way, give a little wave, and keep moving.
It’s not like anyone will miss me back here, anyway, and what does she think I’m going to do? Make a scene?
Maybe she should have thought about that before forcing me back here on graduation day.
She can get over it. I’m not ready to face Preston, and I’m too curious about where everyone disappeared to stand still and smile like a good little household pet.
I walk by the pool and cross underneath the veranda that’s beneath the balcony of my room, until I’m on the side of the house. My heels sink into the grass, making it too difficult to walk, so I bend down and slip them off, holding them in my hand while the cold ground squishes beneath my feet.