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Informationen zum Autor Aimée Carter is a graduate of the University of Michigan and the award-winning author of more than a dozen books, including her latest series Royal Blood as well as the Goddess Test series, the Blackcoat Rebellion series, and the Simon Thorn series for middle-grade readers, now a #1 internationally bestselling series under the title Animox and Die Erben der Animox. Klappentext "As the King of England's illegitimate daughter, 17-year-old Evan Bright knows a thing or two about keeping secrets. But when she's forced to spend the summer in London with her father and the royal family, who aren't exactly thrilled she exists, her identity is mysteriously revealed, and suddenly the world is dying to know every juicy lie the press prints about her. After a fun night turns deadly and Evan becomes the primary suspect in a murder investigation, the escalating rumors and fallout threaten to tear her life apart. As she fights to uncover the truth about what happened, she discovers royal secrets that are even more scandalous than she imagined -- secrets that could change the monarchy forever. And her own may be next."-- Leseprobe Chapter One To be a king and wear a crown is a thing more glorious to them that see it than it is pleasant to them that bear it. —Queen Elizabeth (b. 1533, r. 1558–1603) Breaking into the academic wing of St. Edith’s Academy for Girls isn’t the most reckless thing I’ve ever done, but it definitely comes close. What makes the whole thing exceptionally irresponsible is the fact that I have only one week to go until graduation. In one week, this nightmare that has been the past six years of my life will end, and I’ll never have to set foot in a boarding school again. I should do the smart thing and stay in my dormitory, where my roommate is crying into her pillow and thinks I can’t hear her. But I’ve built my reputation on never doing the smart thing, and there’s no point in subverting royal expectations now. And so, at ten o’clock on a Monday night, I creep down the windowless corridor in complete darkness, my fingers brushing against each door handle as I pass. Though it’s almost impossible to navigate without banging into something, the lack of light also works in my favor. I’ve already disconnected the sole ancient security camera—the only piece of technology allowed in St. Edith’s hallowed halls—but there’s always a chance a custodian might be lurking, and all the careful planning in the world won’t hold up against someone else’s outrageously good luck. I stop in front of the fifth door on the right and dig through my pocket. The lockpicks were a Christmas gift to myself last year, and while I’ve practiced on my dormitory door, I haven’t had the chance for real-world application until now. A thrill runs through me as I hold the lock taut with the tension wrench, nudging each tiny pin one by one with the pick in my other hand. Headmistress Thompson would spontaneously combust if she knew what sort of education I’ve been giving myself while everyone else has been vying for acceptance into Harvard and Yale, but this is quickly becoming the most worthwhile thing I’ve learned since arriving at St. Edith’s in January. The lock gives way before I expect it to, and I almost drop my tools in surprise. I’ve done it—I’ve actually picked a lock. Pretty sure it won’t win me an award anytime soon, but it feels like a superpower, and adrenaline courses through me as I push open the door. Creak. The hinges complain loudly, and I freeze. As my heart pounds, I remain perfectly still, listening for any sign that someone’s on their way to investigate. Nothing. With a renewed sense of urgency, I slip into the classroom. Calculus. Not my favorite. When you start trying to apply logic to the imaginary and infinitesimal, the rules get murky, and I like knowing the rules. I read the code of conduct for ...
