ONE: WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE
DECEMBER 27
WIL DIAMOND
SHE POKED ONE FOOT THROUGH the leg of her jeans and then quickly followed with the second. When she stood, she was careful not to jostle the bed for fear of waking the man sleeping in it. Then, she crept across the loft's hardwood floors to the couch where she found her sweater, but no bra. Where the hell did she put it last night? She didn't have time to look so she pulled her sweater over her mass of chestnut-colored curls and tried to ignore the way the knit scratched against her nipples.
For the record, that was probably the leastprincess-like thing Princess Wilmarie Diamond had done and the hangover pounding through her attested to it. She peeked back at the bed where last night's company slept, unbothered. Then she straightened the sweater on her torso and collected the last of her things—her leather jacket, Christian Louboutin booties, cell phone, and purse—before she inched towards the door. Then, she quietly undid the locks and slipped out.
Once she was in the hall, she padded down the carpet as quietly as possible. She set her sights on the elevator and slipped back into her jacket (as if it would disguise the fact that her b-cups were most definitely bouncing freely inside of her sweater).
When she reached the elevator, she jabbed a manicured-nail into the downbutton and waited impatiently.
She fidgeted with the leather bracelet on her wrist—the very one she'd been wearing since her dad gave it to her six years ago. It was his from when he was younger and she used to beg for it every day. In a palace of diamonds, emeralds and rubies, there was nothing she wanted to wear more than that worn strap of leather with three initials stamped into it—WGD. Walter Grant Diamondor, as it applied to its current owner, Wilmarie Grace Diamond.
The elevator let out a soft dingjust before the doors parted and she stepped inside it mindlessly. Rolling her head between her shoulders to relieve some of the tension, she pressed the button for the lobby and then shut her eyes.
"Long night, huh?" a voice from the back of the elevator asked and the princess's emerald green eyes popped open. Startled, she jumped when she saw a very familiar face.
She was a tiny girl—equal to the size of someone half her age. She emitted the coiled energy of a young puppy and had a bounce in her step even on a morning as early as that one. Faint freckles were dusted across her cheeks—which held a permanent blush from all the time she'd spent in the sun—and her hair was cropped just above her collarbones in a color that reminded Wil of a caramel-swirled ice cream cone. Her eyes were an unusual color—a shade similar to a violet or orchid—and though she was tiny, she was incredibly fit.
"Hey Wil," the girl said, smiling softly.
"Phoebe," said Wil as she attempted to catch her breath. Then her brows knit together with a heavy sense of confusion. "What are you doing here?"
Phoebe pushed a lock of her light brown hair out of her face and as she did, she revealed a singular highlight in a vibrant purple color which matched her eyes. Almost immediately, she proceeded to tie her waves up into a messy bun and as she did, Wil stared at the girl's stocking feet (not an uncommon sight as Phoebe often ran around in socks during warmer months).
"Heading out for my morning run," answered Phoebe when she was finished with her hair.
Wil stared at the girl—who, at one time, had been her best friend—and then cleared her throat awkwardly.
"I figured," she said because as a member of the Academy's championship-winning soccer team, Phoebe was also an avid runner. "I meant more like, what are you doing here?"
"I moved here in August," she said which made Wil incredibly embarrassed. She and Phoebe used to know everything about each other—down to their darkest, most twisted secrets. How could she not have known when Phoebe traded the four-bedroom home she'd grown up in for a loft across town?
Phoebe's eyes trained on the numbers of the elevator as they counted down to the lobby.
17... 16... 15...
"After things with my mom..." Her voice trailed and she cleared her throat. "Downsizing made more sense."
Wil swallowed hard, forcing down a lump that had begun forming the second she realized she wasn't alone in the elevator. "H—How is she? Lyla, I mean."
Suddenly, Phoebe got even quieter. She scratched at her freckly nose and then blinked down to the Nikesshe was holding in her hand. After a minute, she blinked back up and softly replied,
"No change since July."
Rubbing her collarbones awkwardly, Wil nodded but didn't say anything else. What could she say? The girls hadn't spoken in months and hadn't been friends for much longer than that.
The elevator continued descending and a part of Wil wished someone else would stop it and get on. Anything to disrupt the awkward silence. But no one else was crazy to be up at the early hour.
"How was your Hanukkah?" Wil almost asked but thankfully didn't. Hanukkah was the one time that Phoebe could actually count on her mom being something that even remotely resembled a mom. Surely her first year without her wasn't something the freckly girl was eager to talk about.
"Has the Council made a decision yet?" Phoebe obviously wasn't as cautious asking the difficult questions. The Royal Council was a group elected to work alongside Wil's family, the Royal Family, and together, they governed the Realm.
Suddenly, Wil was the one wavering quietly in the corner. She spun the bracelet around her wrist and avoided making eye contact. Almost a month had passed since that chilly day in November and she still didn't know how to talk about it or what to say. Actually, she had plenty to say but unless it was an omission of guilt, no one wanted to hear it.
"The hearing is later today," Wil responded when she'd exhausted any attempts to stall. "Dad seems optimistic but Mom said we should be prepared should things not go in our favor. Her pessimism is so predictable, it's almost refreshing."
Before Phoebe could respond, another dingsounded from the elevator and it came to a soft halt. Wil looked up and the two girls just stood there. It was like they both had so much left to say but neither one of them knew where to begin. Finally, Phoebe gestured to her stocking feet and the running shoes she was holding.
"I should get going," she said quietly, like she didn't completely mean it. "It's supposed to snow again today so I want to make sure I'm back before then."
Wil nodded and the girls exited the elevator, walking through the lobby which she didn't entirely recognize from the night before. The guy she came with—what was his name again? Oh right. Damon—was a little distracting. In the morning—albeit, hungover and exhausted—she saw the details she'd missed last night. The building was nice, an old industrial building restored with more modern features. It was exactly the kind of place a twenty-something bachelor would live—as well as an eighteen-year-old pseudo-orphan.
"Good luck with the hearing today," Phoebe said after some time and it sounded like she meant it. She stopped by the door and looked back with a sense of longing in her violet eyes. "I hope it all works out."
Normally, Wil would have talked to Phoebe for hours about her nerves, the upcoming hearing, and how—despite what everyone believed—it wasn't her fault. And, after all of that talk, Phoebe would say she believed her. Because they were friends and friends believed each other. But they hadn't been friends in so long, things weren't the same anymore.
"Hey Wil?" Phoebe said as she put her sneakers on. "For what it's worth, I know you're innocent. The Council will too."
Then she offered a small wave of her hand, tied her shoes and then started her run outside. As Wil watched her once-best friend disappear into the morning dusk, she felt a powerful wave of nostalgia wash over her.
A year ago, everything was different. She and Phoebe were best friends. Everyone at her school, the Academy of Magic & Magical Studies, envied her. She was that girland there wasn't a day that she wasn't constantly reminded of it.
But now the tabloids called her the villain. She was the selfish girl helped orchestrate a violent that cost two classmates their lives. Sure, there was more to the story but what did it matter? People believed she was guilty. People believed she played a part in what happened so that's what became the truth. So at seventeen years old, Wil Diamond was facing expulsion and—if the Council found it appropriate—Banishment.
In a matter of hours, she'd learn what fate awaited her.
SHE RETURNED TO THE PALACEvia a hidden tunnel system that had been in place since the castle's first construction. She followed the tunnels to a secret entrance hidden behind a large portrait of her grandfather, the late King Jonathan. He died when she was just a few years old—too young to remember anything about him—and shortly after King Jonathan's passing, the Realm welcomed his only child, Prince Walter, onto the throne.
Wil crept through the halls though her reserve was probably unnecessary. Even if someone had spotted the princess sneaking back inside after her night out, they wouldn't say anything. She was Princess Wilmarie. Sure, public opinion about her was split at the moment but it was still her freaking castle.
She made her way to her bedroom and along the way, she passed seven maids, four security agents, and her mother's handler, Rachel. When she reached her room, she jumped at the sight of her personal security detail, Mr. Flynn.
Mr. Flynn (he never did tell her his first name) had been working for the Diamond family for seven years and as Wil's personal detail for four of them. Having been at her side for so long, Mr. Flynn learned quickly not to question her frequent ins and outs and the occasional rules that were broken. He also agreed to turn a blind eye when she asked (usually for the purposes of a night like last) though he always did so reluctantly.
His hazel eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark aviators and he raised a brow at Wil when she arrived at her door, wearing the same outfit she'd left in the night before.
"Your Highness," he said with a straight face, that same way he always did. In fact, in all the time that she'd known him, Wil had never seen an ounce of emotion on her bodyguard's face.
Pursing her lips, Wil watched him open her bedroom doors for her and then she slipped inside her fortress. It looked as though a tornado had torn through it—just like it did every other time she walked in it. The palace's cleaning staff had long ago given up on the room and only stepped inside when absolutely necessary. Clothes formed mountains on the floor and cloaked the backs of chairs—most particularly the mint-colored chaise by the large floor-to-ceiling window. Empty bottles of various liquors collected under the queen-sized bed while a silver tray rested on the coffee table, where there were loose papers and a small bag of marijuana. Her bed was still unmade from the last time she slept in it and when she threw herself onto it, she grunted.
"Is that all, Princess?" asked Mr. Flynn, folding his hands together as he stood by her door, waiting to be dismissed. And just as Wil opened her mouth to reply, a different voice came from the hallway outside.
"Wil!"
Wil's green eyes rolled to the back of her head right away.
"Wil, are you in here?"
She groaned again and rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow like she thought it would hide her from the coming intruder.
"Don't let her in here," Wil tried to mumble but it wasn't coherent enough for Mr. Flynn to understand or obey.
Shortly after, a gorgeous blonde about Wil's height appeared in the doorway with her manicured hands on her straight hips. Her buttery blonde hair fell in loose waves, framing her face like a picture, and her blue eyes were clearer than the sky in summer.
Kate,Wil thought to herself while her twin sister stood there, looking perfectly polished despite the fact that she had probably just woken up.
"Wil, good. You're back." Kate exhaled a breath of relief and then entered without invitation. Wil wasn't exactly sure howher sister knew she was gone the night before (she was usually able to sneak out unseen) and Kate didn't explain. Instead, she started talking, ignorant to Wil's hangover.
"The Council's here. They're early. I just saw them walk into the Conference Hall with Mom and Dad."
"Fantastic," Wil grumbled into her pillow, because if the Royal Council was in the palace, the hearing must have been pushed up.
"They want to do the hearing now," Kate said, confirming Wil's suspicions. "Mom said she has things to do before she meets the new student tomorrow and Dad said they can do the hearing without you. I heard him tell Mom that he'll take care of everything. He said he sent you a message but you weren't answering your phone."
Kate took a seat on Wil's suede couch—though not before she carefully moved an ashtray (holding an extinguished roach from the day before) onto the coffee table. At the door, Mr. Flynn shrugged casually as if to say there wasn't much either of them could have done to keep Kate out.
Instinctively, Wil slipped her phone out of her pocket and just as she suspected, the battery was dead. It must have died sometime after leaving the loft that morning. As if reading her mind, Mr. Flynn walked over to put the phone on its charger beside her bed.
"Well?" pressed Kate when she didn't get an answer from her twin. "Don't you want to go eavesdrop?"
That's when Wil picked her head up off her pillow and squinted across the room at her sister. Kate had her feet crossed and tucked under her and her posture was perfect—of courseit was. She had this optimistic smile on her face (not unusual for her) and waited impatiently for her sister's answer.
Wil raised a brow. "Why would I want to do that? If they're going to Banish me, they're going to Banish me. It'll make no difference if I'm outside the Conference Hall with my ear to the door or in here sleeping off this hangover."
"Ever the optimist, Wil..." snickered Kate.
"Why are you here?" a tired Wil asked, sitting up in her bed where she proceeded to tie her curls up in a messy bun. Her hair was a bit knottier than usual—thanks to the hands that were twisted in it just hours earlier—and she made a mental note to schedule a deep-conditioning treatment before her family's New Year's Eve party later that week.
"Katie," huffed Wil after she gave up on her hair. "Last we talked, you said—and I quote—that I am a selfish monster and if it wasn't for me, both Mare and Danny would still be alive."
Kate shrugged and then leaned back against the couch casually, in this too-cool-for-schoolkind of way that really didn't suit her.
"Well, they would," she answered with a blunt honesty. "But I've gained new perspective since then."
That earned an eye roll from Wil.
"Look," said Kate, folding her arms over her chest and lowering her gaze. "I've been doing a lot of thinking since the funerals and I realize I was wrong to jump to conclusions. Cam even said I was being kind of irrational so I'm sure that means I was and—"
Suddenly, Wil cackled.
"Wellof course!" she said extravagantly. "I should've known your boy toy had something to do with your new perspective."
Kate refused to give her sister the satisfaction of a reaction (in the three years that she and Cam Miller had been dating, Wil had never once shown any inclination that she liked her sister's boyfriend). So rather than react, she stiffened and continued.
"You said that you didn't know what was going to happen that day and you said that you're innocent. So I believe you."
"You do?"
Kate nodded. "You're my sister."
Wil's head dropped back to her pillow. "That's nice," she said with a nonchalant shrug. "Promise to remember that when I've been Banished to the Shadow Lands, okay?"
"Shut up," Kate ordered with an eye roll of her own. "They're not going to Banish you. Dad would never let that happen."
Wil chuckled quietly.
"He may be the King, Katie, but if the Council Banishes me, there's nothing Dad can do to stop it. Let's not forget that two people died because of me. I doubt the Council is just going to let that slide."