Chapter 50 Maddy #2
“Real douche stuff. He was on the football team and started telling everyone that he’d had a threesome with us.
No one actually believed him, but it pissed us off.
He had this giant red truck his daddy bought him when he turned sixteen.
So, Abi and I decided to get back at him one night.
We snuck into his parents’ driveway with three cans of paint. ”
“Oh shit.”
I chuckled again. “Yeah. By the morning, it was bright neon pink. It also had several dicks painted on it. I don’t know if he ever actually figured out who did it, but the rumors stopped almost immediately.”
“Damn,” Nico said. “Couple of badasses over here.”
I shook my head. “Nope. Just dumb kids. If we’d gotten caught, we would have been in a hell of a lot of trouble. I’m sure it was several thousand dollars in damage, but I will admit, it was pretty cathartic.”
Nico stood and stretched his arms over his head, groaning. “Are you ready for bed?”
Just the thought of sliding under the sheets and passing out sounded amazing. “Very ready.”
My head had barely touched the pillow before I was asleep and dreaming.
I was walking down a corridor. It was familiar somehow, but I’d never been there before.
The walls were ancient, covered in lichen, dust, and caked-on soot from the dozens of candles in sconces along the wall.
Even as I walked along the stone floors, I had the sensation that this was more than a dream.
It had the hazy realism of an old, almost-forgotten memory. How was it possible?
Before I could think about it, my thoughts were pulled away by the murmur of voices ahead.
I moved farther down the corridor, glancing at the tapestries and oil paintings along the stone walls.
One of the paintings showed a man with a thick black beard hanging almost to his chest and wavy black hair that fell to his shoulders.
The look on his face was one of pious conceit.
I had a moment of recognition as well as love and devotion.
Who was this man? Why did it feel like he was important to me?
“We must do something,” the voice down the hall hissed. It pulled my attention away from the painting, and I continued down to the doorway.
I stopped outside and pressed myself against the wall, eavesdropping on the conversation. There were at least three distinct voices, maybe more, but I couldn’t be certain.
“Our queen has sullied herself by laying with a beast and creating demon spawn. By God, her soul is probably already bound for hell.”
“Hush! Raging against the queen in shadowed rooms won’t help. Action. That is the way,” a voice said.
“Yes,” agreed another. “Perhaps an herbal concoction that would leave her barren? Then there would be no further abominations slithering out from between her legs.”
A powerful and throaty voice spoke up. “These ideas are only the prattle of disgruntled royal cousins. You are all blind to the true problem. Edemas has created dozens of offspring. He’s making bastards left and right.
If he or the queen were to die, then the next in line would simply take over, subjugating us for another generation.
We must not only cut the head off the snake but chop up the body and burn it to ash.
We should start with the Crown Princess. ”
A flutter of fear jolted through my chest as the strange voice said the words. I didn’t know why there would be so much terror inside me. Did I know this woman they were talking of killing?
“He’s right. If the princess is allowed to live, then she may become a monster like the father.
I’m told there are two newborns that Edemas has sired with a couple of his whores.
The rumor from the wet nurses is that they, too, are alphas.
This has to end. Starting with the princess would be best. It will put Edemas on edge and also sow fear and distrust within his inner circle. It is a good plan.”
“It must look like an accident. Overt murder will only turn his suspicions on us. If we are to be successful and wrest this crown from his head, we must be careful. The princess is kind and gentle, yes, but we all know what might happen soon—once she wears the crown. No, this is for the best.”
A whimper of fear escaped my throat, and I clutched at my chest, wishing I could take the sound back.
“What was that?”
“Is someone at the door?”
Without waiting another moment, I turned and ran, my bare feet slapping on the stone floor as I went.
Shouts erupted from behind me. The conspirators had spotted me and were in pursuit.
Fear pushed me forward. I could see the staircase ahead of me.
In the back of my head, I knew that if I made it there, I could try to take the stairs two or three at a time.
Three floors down, I could find the captain of the guard—if I could only get there.
My left foot touched the top step just as rough hands splayed over my back.
My head snapped back as I was pushed over the stone banister.
I tipped over the edge, and the hard slate floor thirty feet below me rushed up at me.
My breath exploded out of me as my fear gave way to shock and disbelief.
I spun in the air, looking up at an unknown face as I fell.
Stern eyes watched as I neared the ground with every second. Then—
I jolted up in bed, gasping for air and clutching at the sheets.
My heart pounded so hard that I was worried I might have a heart attack.
I hadn’t screamed like I usually did when I had a nightmare, and Nico was still asleep beside me, breathing steadily.
I put a shaking hand to my mouth and tried to calm my breathing.
My wolf was right at the surface of my consciousness. She was hurt and terribly sad. Were my dreams actually memories? Could wolves be reincarnated? Could my wolf have lived all those years ago and lived in that castle? If these were memories, who had my wolf been in that past life?