If the king of your high school had a little too much in common with Henry VIII, would you survive with your head still attached?
You’d think being the new girl in a tiny town would equal one very boring senior year. But if you’re me—Annie Marck, alias Cleves—and you accidentally transform into teenage royalty by entering Lancaster High on the arm of the king himself? Life becomes the exact opposite of boring.
Henry has it all: he’s the jock, the genius, and the brooding bad boy all in one. Which sort of explains why he’s on his sixth girlfriend in two years.
What it doesn’t explain is why two of them—two of us—are dead.
An unapologetic reimagining of Lady Macbeth.
She looks at the bruises on my neck and the scratches across my face, but she doesn’t say anything. So I point at my hair, and I say, This color. Know what it’s called?
She shakes her head: No.
I say, REVENGE.
She says, Good girl. Kill him.
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