Page 5 of Scarred Crown

Julia’s voice rings out into the night, but I don’t catch what she says, and I refuse to give her the satisfaction of turning around.

Spending however many nights with her in my tent was a better idea in theory than it is in reality. The coronation might be the big reason she came, but there’s something else going on. Will she tell me? Probably not. Her loyalty hasn’t lain with me in years.

When I get to the fire, I survey the small gathering. A distraction is in order.

Now, where’s my leech?

Nick

Fourteen years ago

Brice and Alex are ahead of me on the steep path along the cliff’s face at the far edge of the royal property. Guards patrol the area every hour, so our window for some fun is narrow, just like the rocky ledge.

On this side of the island, the black cliffs are high and jagged. Our parents, and likely the country, would have a collective heart attack if they realized we plummeted into the ocean on calm days. Below us, there’s barely a ripple today.

“Are you sure she’s coming?” Brice asks.

“She’ll be here.” My tone is tinged with annoyance. Jules isn’t punctual even though she’s highly organized. The weirdest combination. Sometimes I suspect the lateness is her way of shooting her mother a subtle fuck you with every minute that ticks by. My theory would work better if meeting her mother were her only instances of lateness. A few months ago she got her bike license, and she’s been trying everyone’s punctuality patience ever since.

“How do you know she’s not going to tell Secretary Jensen we ditched security to go cliff diving?” Brice tosses a pebble off the edge, and the three of us watch it sail toward the ocean.

It really is quite a long way down.

“Jules can keep a secret from her mother. You don’t need to fucking worry about that.” She’s kept every single one of mine—even when it would have been easier with her mom to rat me out. I glance behind me, my ears alert for the sound of her footsteps.

“Why’d you invite her?” Alex asks, scuffing his feet. “This is our thing.”

“He invites her everywhere.” Brice chimes in. “Surprised he hasn’t asked her before. Jules this, Jules that.”

“Shut your mouth.” I shove him in the shoulder. “She’ll keep our secret. I promised I’d invite her next time the ocean calmed.”

At thirteen, Brice has decided he’s an expert on everything, including my best friend who just happens to be female. Lately, everyone has been acting like it’s shocking we’re friends, as though we haven’t always been tight, as if the fact she’s grown tits will cause my dick or my heart to explode. I’ve got news for them. Neither one is happening, and frustration eats at me each time someone brings it up like our friendship is a recipe for disaster.

Except for my brothers, she’s the only person who understands the complexities of my life. If someone offered me the world in exchange for giving up Jules, I’d tell them to go fuck themselves. We’ll be friends until we die if I have anything to say about it.

Jules rounds the corner of the path at a jog, her long brown hair bouncing over the towel slung around her neck. A grin spreads across her face when we make eye contact.

“Sorry I’m late.”

She doesn’t bother giving me an excuse. It’d be bullshit anyway, so there’s no point in pretending she’s got a good reason. I’ve started calling her timekeeping Jules o’clock, and I tell her fifteen minutes before I actually need to do something. Not that she realizes I’ve adjusted our meet times. My little coping mechanism for her chronic lateness is my secret. Didn’t think of it until too late today. Shouldn’t matter. She’s never hours late, but sometimes she pushes it to the point where I wonder if she’ll show up.

“It’s rude to keep people waiting when you’re invited somewhere.” Alex eyes her, his dark hair and eyes glistening in the bright sun.

She flushes and avoids eye contact with him, dropping her towel beside mine, and dragging her hair into a ponytail. Alex is three years old than us, and he never misses a chance to give me or Jules a hard time. He’s home from college for the summer, and he’s full of self-importance.

“Don’t be an asshole, Alex,” I mutter. “It’s not like we’ve got a stopwatch for when we must jump off the cliff.” I tap the back of my wrist, miming a fake watch.

“Just security breathing down our neck,” Alex mutters, staring out at the flat turquoise waters. “Julia jumps first.”

“No.” I glare at him. “Oldest to youngest. That’ll put Jules in the middle.”

“And me at the back,” Brice whines. “Youngest to oldest. Jules will still be second.”

Before any of us get a chance to debate or discuss the order, Alex takes a run at the cliff and flies off, his feet kicking the air. His fall is silent. Weeks ago, we learned shrieks of joy will draw security. We had to hide in the water for almost an hour while they patrolled around us. It was a miracle no one sent out a search party.

We clamber closer to the edge to make sure he hit the turquoise water and not any sharp, black rocks. When his head bobs to the surface, I grin at Jules.

“That’s.” She swallows and doesn’t take her gaze off the long drop. “Farther than I expected.”