Tarnished Crown (Gravestone Elite #2) Caitlyn Dare (old books to read TXT) 📖

Sasha meets me outside class. “All set?”

“Yeah. Listen, thanks for doing this.” She offered to give me a ride to my parents’ house. I wasn’t lying when I told Cade I want to see them.

I just wasn’t entirely honest about why I’m going home.

“Anytime. I’m going home for a few days, anyway. I think I need some space.”

“From Channing?”

“From everything.” She lets out a heavy sigh.

“I know that feeling.” I sink back against the soft leather seat, watching the scenery roll by. It’s hard to believe that less than two months ago, I was just a girl about to start college. Everything is different now.

I’m different.

And my freedom from this place seems to move further out of reach with every passing day.

We ride in comfortable silence until Sasha turns onto my street. “Nice place,” she says, and I roll my eyes.

“You live in a mansion.”

“Just because something’s pretty doesn’t mean it’s good inside,” she says with an air of sadness.

The more I get to know Sasha, the more I can’t imagine growing up as an Electi heir but knowing you were born the wrong sex to ever inherit the power that comes with the title.

“Will you be okay getting back?” she asks me, and I nod.

“My dad will give me a ride.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Stay safe.”

Her words hit deep, but I force a smile. “You too.”

My dad’s car is missing from the driveway, but I’m not here to see him.

Traipsing up the driveway, I test the door, only to find it locked. Digging out my keys, I slip inside. “Mom,” I call. “It’s me.”

She isn’t home. As I expected, she’ll either be out for happy hour drinks or at the spa with her friends.

I drop my bag on the floor and chuck my keys on the sideboard, moving deeper into the house. This was the house I grew up in. The house where I learned to walk and fall down, the house where I was loved and nurtured. But it all feels tainted now. The memories I have of learning and growing all feel like some grooming experiment.

I never wanted to be a prosapia. I always knew I’d have to enter the Eligere… but I didn’t know.

How could I?

It’s hard not to feel bitter about that. It’s hard not to resent my parents for just handing me over to Cade like some prize cow.

Tears burn the backs of my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I didn’t come here for a trip down memory lane.

I pull out my cell phone and quickly text Mom.

Mia: Hi Mom, I came home but you’re not here. I can’t stay too long; will you be home soon?

A couple of minutes pass, but she texts back.

Mom: Sweetheart, why didn’t you call first? You know I hang out with the girls today. I’ll be home in a couple of hours. Please, stay. I’d love to see you.

Mia: I’ll try. Have fun xo

Letting out a steady breath, I pocket my cell phone and make my way to the back of the house to Dad’s office. He doesn’t keep it locked. He doesn’t need to. He trusts his family implicitly.

Maybe he shouldn’t.

The thought flashes through my head, but I shake it off. Unlike the archives floor at the Town Hall, everything looks exactly the same in here.

There’s a big desk pushed into one corner, with Dad’s computer sitting proudly atop of it. The bookcase on the opposite wall houses an array of old books and filing boxes, labelled with things like ‘house finances,’ ‘work,’ and one that catches my eye. It isn’t labelled with anything except the Quinctus crest.

A trickle of something goes through me as I approach the shelf. It’s sitting right there, nestled along the rest of the filing boxes.

Hiding in plain sight.

I don’t know what I expect to find inside, but my fingers tremble as I pluck the box off the shelf and sit down on the chair beside the bookcase. Pressing the catch, I lift the lid and peer inside the box. It all looks innocent enough. Paperwork with Mayor Cargill’s official seal. I scan the faded text, quickly realizing it’s my father’s letter of employment. No wonder it looks so old and worn—he’s worked for Phillip Cargill for as long as I can remember. I pull out the stack of paper and flick through the rest, but I don’t understand most of it. There’s nothing here. Feeling frustrated, I straighten them into a pile and start to place them back inside when a slip of paper flutters out.

Gently edging it out, I scan the handwritten scrawl.

It’s a list of names. Names I don’t recognize, all except one.

Gregory Kingsley.

My spine tingles as I clutch the note, wondering what it can possibly mean. Cade’s father was Quinctus. It makes sense my dad would have crossed paths with him, since he and Phillip both worked together.

But my father doesn’t work for Quinctus. He works for the Mayor’s office.

Pulling out my cell phone, I snap a picture of the names and carefully reorganize all the documents. I close the lid and place the box back on the shelf, making sure everything is left exactly as it was. Then I hurry upstairs to my bedroom and turn on my computer.

Once it flickers to life, I pull up Google and open the photo of the list of names. Typing the first one in, I wait for the search to populate.

My brows furrow as I scan the list of results. I’ve never heard of Landon Stanley, but apparently Google has. His name litters newspaper reports and online articles. But it’s one specific headline that piques my interest.

“Investment banker Landon Stanley found dead after car spins on black ice and falls into a ravine.” Huh.

The back of my neck prickles as I move onto the next name. Jeffery Poulter. Prosecutor for a law firm in Mercury Falls, a town not far from Gravestone. The results pull up a similar story. Jeffery was driving home from work