Page 33 of Reign

“Callie, I don’t think I’ve ever told you how sorry I am about your mother.”

“Probably because I didn’t give you the chance to.” I have to stare at the ceiling for this, blinking back the swell of emotion.

“We had a rough start, didn’t we? And I don’t think I made it any better by keeping my connection to Meredith from you.”

My chin falls, and I worry the corner of my napkin. “You told the police. And you hadn’t even reunited with my dad yet. That’s all that matters.”

“No, honey, it doesn’t. I should’ve told you, too, the instant Pete and I grew serious. Now I might be too late. An apology seems so banal, especially considering your worries over your mom’s connection to Briarcliff and her…”

“Murder. You can say it.” For me at least, it’s rolling off my tongue with disturbing ease.

“Yes. Murder. I didn’t know her very well, but no one deserves to be treated like that in the end.”

I worry the inside of my cheek, glancing at the swinging door Sophia left through. “You said you didn’t know Sabine Harrington that well, either.”

Lynda murmurs her agreement, then settles against her chair. “She was part of the popular clique. I wasn’t.” Now it’s Lynda’s turn to glance at the door. “It was only through the Virtues she really spoke to me, and that was mostly to offer up instructions or chastise my propriety and all the smallest errors I needed to correct if I wanted to keep my membership in the society.” Lynda adds quietly, “Even now, she does it.”

I lean forward, my better half warning me away from this line of discussion. Lynda’s anxious over Blair’s safety. She has a new family to think about and a husband who truly doesn’t grasp the consequences of Briarcliff secret societies. I should back off, allow her to live a cushioned life where Virtuous membership simply means more perks, better parties, and called-in favors like instructing Lynda to send her newest stepchild to Briarcliff Academy for her senior year. But I can’t stop. “Were you ever introduced to older men when you were at Briarcliff?”

A tiny line forms between Lynda’s brows. “Such as alumni? Maybe. Possibly. At our underground balls and such.”

I risk adding more detail with the next question. “Did you ever notice a Virtue quieter than the others? Standing off to the side at these balls or not contributing much to the meetings, but seemingly protected by Sabine or the current queen?”

“There were always girls like those. The sweet and kind ones who were beautiful inside and out.”

The opening is there, but my throat prematurely burns with the consequences. I ask, through thickened tissue, “Was my mother one of them?”

“Meredith?” Lynda cocks a smile. “Not a chance, honey.”

My lungs deflate in relief.

“Meredith was outspoken and didn’t hesitate to criticize how Sabine was taking on the role of queen before it was earned. I doubt those two ever got along, but in the Society, it was especially tense. In fact, your mom often sought out the girls you’re speaking of and made them feel welcome. Experience has taught me that the quiet ones are either the most nervous, or the most diabolical, of them all. I think Meredith knew that, too.” She gives a closed-mouth chuckle, shaking her head. “Meredith had a knack for befriending the prickly ones, too, but she could never get through to Sabine. Strange, considering the two were matched in every aspect. Academics, sports…”

Not Briar blood, I interject silently. The trait Sabine covets the most.

“…boyfriends. Lord, they were cats when it came to boys.”

The Meredith she talks about still doesn’t connect in my mind. I can’t picture Mom as a high schooler, jealous over boys. I can picture Mom seeking out the outcasts and loners and making them her friend. But how much did she know? Was Sabine’s future grandmother-in-law in the midst of grooming them for her new, iniquitous project?

I open my mouth to ask Lynda to elaborate, but Sophia chooses that time to come in with dinner, plated on a silver platter.

“Apologies,” she says as she sets the professionally garnished platter in the middle. “It’s been so long since we’ve hosted, and I wanted to make this special on Callie’s first day home.”

“I love it,” I say, and pull Sophia into a side-hug as she stands between us. “It smells freaking divine.”

Lies, my stomach grumbles, swaying dramatically. I swallow a ball of saliva, determined to eat a few bites and acknowledge Sophia’s hard work.

Sophia squeezes my shoulder with her usual affectionate death grip, then goes about carving the roast and plating. I sit back, allowing the fuss, but desperate to get back to the conversation. Dad could come in at any second, effectively ruining any opening I had with Lynda.

Let Lynda be, he’d say. She’s had a game-changing few weeks and is only now finding her feet.

Studying the fresh treads of crow’s feet around Lynda’s eyes and the exhausted sag of her usually expertly filled-in lips, I can agree with him.

But my mother’s death matters more.

Sophie finishes, and as soon as the door swings shut behind her, I ask, “Which guy did Mom and Sabine fight over?”

Lynda pauses with her fork in mid-air, the silver sparkling under the chandelier. She hasn’t taken her first bite yet. “Honey, it was a long time ago. I can’t remember.”

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