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For Callaway,
the boy who climbed into the tree house in my heart
and let me be the crown on his.
Table of Contents
THIS TIME WE WERE IN the Great Room enduring another etiquette lesson when bricks came flying through the window. Elise immediately hit the ground and started crawling for the side door, whimpering as she went. Celeste let out a high-pitched scream and bolted toward the back of the room, barely escaping a shower of glass. Kriss grabbed my arm, pulling me, and I broke into a run alongside her as we made our way to the exit.
“Hurry, ladies!” Silvia cried.
Within seconds, the guards had lined up at the windows and were firing, and the bursts of sound echoed in my ears as we fled. Whether they came with guns or stones, anyone showing the smallest level of aggression within sight of the palace would die. There was no more patience left for these attacks.
“I hate running in these shoes,” Kriss muttered, a heap of dress draped over her arm, eyes focused on the end of the hall.
“One of us is going to have to get used to it,” Celeste said, her breath labored.
I rolled my eyes. “If it’s me, I’ll wear sneakers every day. I’m already over this.”
“Less talking, more moving!” Silvia yelled.
“How do we get downstairs from here?” Elise asked.
“What about Maxon?” Kriss huffed.
Silvia
