Right Into the Danger Zone—Hudson—
Sneak Peek: The Liar's Crown, by Abigail Owen
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by Tracy Deebs-Elkenaney. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Preview of The Liar's Crown copyright © 2022 by Abigail Owen
Entangled Publishing, LLC
10940 S Parker Road
Suite 327
Parker, CO 80134
Entangled Teen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Edited by Liz Pelletier
Cover design by Bree Archer
Cover artwork by
koya79/GettyImages, Renphoto/Gettyimages, and Envato Elements
Interior Endpaper Design by Elizabeth Turner Stokes
Interior design by Toni Kerr
ISBN 978-1-64937-060-0 (Hardcover) ISBN 978-1-64937-180-5 (B&N)
ISBN 978-1-64937-181-2 (BAM) ISBN 978-1-64937-182-9 (TARGET)
ISNB 978-1-64937-183-6 (INDIE) ISBN 978-1-64937-061-7 (Ebook)
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition February 2022
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2
To Stephanie
Thank you for saying yes
At Entangled, we want our readers to be well-informed. If you would like to know if this book contains any elements that might be of concern for you, please check the book’s webpage.
https://entangledpublishing.com/books/court
0
Fake It Till
It Breaks You
—Hudson—
We are totally fucked.
And if Grace’s terrified expression is any indication, she knows it, too.
I want to tell her everything is going to be okay, but the truth is, I’m terrified, too. Just not for the same reasons she is, though I’m not ready to go there yet.
Right now, she’s sitting on my couch in front of the fire, her hair wet from her shower, her curls glistening in the flickering light. She’s wearing one of my T-shirts and a pair of my sweatpants all rolled up.
She’s never looked more beautiful.
Or more defenseless.
Fear threatens to overwhelm me at the thought, even as I tell myself she’s nowhere near as defenseless as she looks. Even as I tell myself that she can take anything our fucking world can throw at her.
Anything but Cyrus.
If I’ve learned one thing about my father, it’s that he’ll never stop. Not until he gets what he wants and fuck the consequences.
The thought turns my blood cold.
I’ve never been afraid of anything in my whole miserable life—not of living and definitely not of dying. Enter Grace, and now I live in constant terror.
Terror I’ll lose her and terror that if I do, she’ll take the light with her. I know what it’s like to be in the shadows—I’ve spent my whole bloody life in the dark.
And I don’t want to go back.
“Can I—” I clear my throat and start again. “Can I get you a drink?” I ask, but Grace doesn’t respond. I’m not sure she even hears me as she continues to stare at her phone, not wanting to miss a word on Flint. The specialist arrived ten minutes ago to look at him, and the wait to hear if he’ll be able to keep his leg has been interminable. I know she wants to be in the infirmary with him—we all do—but when he asked for privacy, we couldn’t say no. “Right. Okay. I’ll only be a few minutes,” I tell her, because she wasn’t the only one in desperate need of a shower.
She still doesn’t answer, and I can’t help wondering what she’s thinking. What she’s feeling. She hasn’t said more than a few words since we got back to school and realized Cyrus had tricked us and kidnapped all the students while we were fighting on the island. I just wish I knew what I could do to help her. To reach her before everything goes to hell again.
Because it will. Cyrus’s terrifying new alliances are proof of that. As is his bold kidnapping of the children of the most powerful paranormals in the world. There’s nowhere for him to go from here, nothing for him to do but destroy everything.
Not wanting to leave Grace sitting all alone in silence, I walk over to my record collection and riffle through the albums until my fingers land on Nina Simone. I pull the vinyl from the sleeve and place it on the turntable, click a button, and wait as the needle swings out and lowers with a crisp bite of static before Nina’s whiskey voice fills the quiet space. I adjust the volume so it’s more background music, and with one last look at Grace’s still frame, I turn and head to the bathroom.
I take the fastest shower on record, considering the amount of blood and gore and death I need to wash away. I get dressed nearly as fast.
I don’t know why I’m rushing, don’t know what I’m afraid I’ll find when—
My racing heart slows as I see Grace right where I left her. And I finally admit the truth to myself: the reason I haven’t wanted to let her out of my sight is because I’m afraid she’ll realize she made a mistake in choosing me.
Is it an irrational fear, considering she told me she loves me? That she chooses me, even with everything going on, even knowing what a burden my gifts are? Absolutely.
Does that make it go away? Not even close.
That’s the power she holds over me, the power she’ll always hold.
“Any word on Flint?” I ask as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge in the corner and carry it over to her.
“Nothing on the group chat yet.”
I try to hand her the water, but when she doesn’t take it from my outstretched hand, I walk to the other side of the couch and sit beside her, set the water on the table in front of us.
She turns from the fire then, slays me with her wounded gaze, and whispers, “I love you.” And my heart pounds again.
She looks so serious, too serious, and even a little bit desperate. So I do what I always do to pull her out of her own head: I tease her, this time with our favorite movie line. “I know.”