Henry did not take long to send the books—books, plural. There were five of them, all devoted to the history of the Northern Kingdom.
I spent most of the day reading. The first volume detailed the royal lineage, brief biographies of each king and his accomplishments.
All of them bore the name Astor.
There was no mention of the current king, Noah Everdene. Since no one knew who his father was, he carried his mother's name instead.
At dinner, to my relief, the duke was absent. Only Henry joined me.
"Thank you, Henry, for the books. They were most helpful," I said.
"You're welcome," he replied, his voice lacking its former warmth.
"Do you know anything about the Northern king, Noah Everdene? I found nothing about him."
He looked troubled, as though he wished to avoid conversation altogether.
"That is only natural," he said.
"These books are not recent. He has ruled for merely thirteen years."
"Is he old?"
"No. He is the youngest king among all the realms, and the first to ascend the throne at the age of eighteen," Henry replied, his tone easing slightly.
I was impressed. That would make him thirty-one now—remarkably young.
"But how could he be crowned without coming of age?"
"In the Northern Kingdom, eighteen is the coming of age," Henry explained.
"Is it true he is the former king's illegitimate son?"
"Who told you that?"
"My maid," I lied.
"No one knows for certain. It remains a rumor."
"How did he ascend the throne?"
Henry gave a small chuckle. "You ask too many questions. I do not know the full tale, but it is said he slaughtered the entire royal family. Surely some noble houses aided him."
"Do you think he will attend the prince's ceremony?"
"I do not know."
"I hope he does," I said softly. "I wish to see my king."
Henry's expression hardened. "Aria, you are Eastern now. He is no longer your king. Edward Eastlake rules this land, and Elijah Eastlake is your crown prince."
I did not know why his words carried such severity.
"Of course," I replied. "Pardon me."
We finished dinner in silence, and I returned to my room. I read of the Northern Kingdom until sleep finally claimed me.
------------------------------------------------
"Alright, I'll see you later, Julies," David said after walking me home, celebrating my acceptance into his university.
He was home for the weekend before returning to campus. He wanted to be an architect—always obsessed with buildings—so I knew he would excel.
When I opened the door, my father sat at the table, anger simmering beneath his stare.
"Who was that?"
Oh shit. He was drunk.
"My friend. David Becker."
"Didn't I tell you to stop seeing that boy?"
"Why? He's my friend."
"Don't argue with me. I don't like his father—he thinks he's better than everyone."
"What does that have to do with anything?" I snapped. "I'm friends with David, not his father. And David is nothing like him."
Whenever it came to David, I always defended him, even knowing it would cost me.
"Did he fuck you?" he snarled.
"Is that why you're defending him, you little whore?"
I stared at him in disgust.
"Don't look at me with those filthy eyes!" he suddenly yelled, lunging at me.
He shoved me onto the sofa and pressed his thumbs into my eyes. "I hate these eyes—I'll gouge them out!"
I kicked and screamed.
Suddenly the pressure vanished. I heard fists—David's fists—striking him.
"If you ever touch Julia again," David roared, "I won't just kill you—I'll make you wish you were dead, you sick bastard!"
I had never seen David like this.
My father crumpled to the floor, weak and pitiful. I had never seen him that way before.
"Julia," David said gently, lifting me. "You're okay now. I've got you."
I was speechless. Ashamed. I had never told him about my father.
I clung to him, burying my face in his neck.
He carried me toward his house, but I asked him to put me down.
We went to the small park nearby. It was empty. I sat on the swing; he sat beside me.
"Do you remember the first time we met?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "You were sitting right here. It was freezing."
I smiled faintly. "That day… he locked me out."
"Why didn't you tell me, Julies?" His voice was wounded.
"What was I supposed to say? That my own father hates me? That he wishes I never existed?" I laughed bitterly. "It's humiliating."
He said nothing, so I continued.
"I always wondered why he hated me. At first, I thought it was because my mother died—but that couldn't be it. He used to be kind. He called me his little princess." I smiled at the memory. "Can you believe that?"
My smile faded.
"One day, everything changed. I don't know why. I'm too afraid to ask—afraid he'll say it out loud: I hate you. It's ridiculous, right?"
David knelt in front of me and held my hands. "No. It's not ridiculous. And it's not your fault. He's just sick."
I smiled through my tears. "Thank you."
"Come live with me," he said.
"It's only one month until your eighteenth birthday. You're already accepted at my university."
"But you hate roommates."
"Not if it's you."
I hugged him tightly. "I don't know how I'd survive without you."
He hugged me back.
As we walked to his house, hand in hand, I asked, "How did you come back?"
"You left your acceptance letter with me," he said. "I went to return it—and heard you screaming."
"I'm glad you came," I said lightly. "Otherwise, I'd be blind by now."
He didn't smile.
"I'm okay, David. Really."
"What about your sister?" he asked quietly. "Does he hurt her too?"
"No. He's distant, but he never hit her. June doesn't know. He never did it in front of her—and I never told."
"Why not?!"
"If I told her, she'd go to the police. We'd be put in foster care. I'd ruin her life."
"You're allowed to be selfish in situations like this."
"I already lost my father," I whispered. "I don't want her to lose hers too."
"And after she went to college?"
"I have a life here," I said softly. "I can't lose you."
He squeezed my hand—I'm here.
At his house, he said, "You can sleep here tonight. We'll get your things tomorrow."
After he fell asleep, I slipped back home. My father was passed out.
I texted David:
I'm sorry. I can't involve you in my twisted life. I'd never forgive myself if you got hurt because of me. I promise I'll be safe, and I'll move out when I turn eighteen. I love you. See you soon.