Page 94 of The Royal Art of Revenge

“How did you get out of there?”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was the shaman?”

“That crazy old lady Sayana made you pay just for a blessing every month?” She raises her eyebrows. “No, I wouldn’t.”

I smile and look out over the flowers. They’re visible thanks to the low lighting marking the pathways, and my eyes trace the dim outlines of the bushes like a grounding tool. “When we turned fourteen, she made us pay out of the meagre earnings she let us keep. The shaman knew—she knew everything that was going on on that island. After Sayana was killed a couple of years later, she gave us back every penny and shoved us on a boat to her sister in a neighbouring village. Her sister was a local government official who was able to help us reach the mainland under the radar. We managed to contact Ryan’s dad, and he immediately flew out. He didn’t have to help me, but he did. I owe him my life.”

She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “She’s dead?”

“Yes. She pissed off one too many people.”

That’s it.

She doesn’t need to know more.

She doesn’t need to know Ryan was the one who killed her when he overheard her planning to sell me in exchange for one of her larger debts.

That’s a secret I will take to the grave.

“Good. She might have saved our lives in a fucked-up way, but…” She shakes her head. “She was a vile person.”

“Yeah. Both things can be true. We can be grateful she hid us while still being happy she was dead. It’s not exactly a black and white situation.”

“Mm.” She squeezes my hand tightly. “I’m so sorry, Hattie. I tried to tell them I wasn’t the only one, but nobody listened. I told my father you were there, but he said I was wrong because you were already buried. Nobody would believe a traumatised twelve-year-old girl. I even tried looking for you when I turned eighteen and had my own money, but I couldn’t find you.”

“It’s not your fault. By that point, we were already gone.” I turn to her, resting my other hand on top of hers. “You were a child, Titi. We both were. If everyone thought I was dead, it’s not surprising they didn’t believe you. Knowing what I do now…” I shake my head. “It’s a whole can of worms nobody wants to open.”

“Does that mean you are going to?”

“I’m going to blow the lid off it,” I say firmly. “Ryan has been looking into it, and we think we have a lead. I have… someone… willing to help me here, too.”

“Count me in.” Her blue eyes blaze, even in the low light. “Whatever you need. I can’t offer much other than money, but it’s yours. Especially if you can implicate my father’s wife in it.”

I still.

“She was involved. I know it.” She presses her lips together, then releases my hand and pulls up her dress, revealing a gnarly scar down her calf. “This is from a horse-riding ‘incident’ when I was fifteen. My soft, sweet mare suddenly flipped, throwing me off and trampling me. I had a bleed on my brain, broke three ribs, my collarbone, and my knee, and I had to have my muscle reattached on my lower leg.”

Nausea swirls in my stomach. “What?”

“She was put down citing ‘danger’ to riders. I found out later that she’d been tampered with—the people I entrusted her care to swapped her feed out for low-quality stuff, kept her confined when I wasn’t around, and used violent training methods. Her anxiety became too much, and she snapped.” Sadness curls around her, and she looks down. “I was pressured into top marks in my exams, so I admit I was more neglectful than I should have been. By the time I realised something was wrong, it was too late, and she was all but trying to kill me. I found out later than Vivienne—my father’s wife—was behind hiring those particular workers.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “That’s horrible. How could they do that to an innocent animal?”

“I don’t know.” She smiles sadly at me. “But that’s only the tip of the iceberg. So, please, Hattie. Let me in on this investigation. What I went through out there wasn’t nearly as bad as it was for you, but…”

I nod. “Of course. And, selfishly, I could use a friend.”

“Excellent. I can tell my father that it’s ‘mission accomplished,’ then.” Her smile turns cold. “Nothing like cosying up to royalty to satisfy someone else’s greedy ambitions, eh?”

“Tell me about it.” I sigh, then freeze at the sound of footsteps. “Is that Finn?”

The doors open again, and my heart sinks when I see it’s my father instead of him.

Great.

Valentina looks over at him. “Hello, Mr Sinclair,” she says softly.

“Valentina Devereaux,” my father replies, a hint of surprise brightening his tone. “What are you doing out here with my daughter?”