Page 44 of Reign

I grunt my assent. He pulls out a lighter from his pocket and fires it up. We sit at my two gaming chairs, spinning them until we’re looking out over the Manhattan skyline. A few moments pass, and then ten, before a needed weightlessness overtakes my body.

My smoke ring floats up, widening and embracing my second smoke ring before both dissipate near the ceiling.

“Better, friend?” Tempest asks beside me, reclined in much the same way I am.

I pass him the blunt, “Far from it.”

A small nudge at the base of my skull keeps reminding me that Sabine might not have concocted Ivy’s—or my—death on her own. I lost my cool tonight because Father might know of my goals to usurp him and might not have objected to Sabine’s attempts to get rid of me, or Callie, for good. How could I sit across the table from that man, saying nothing? Ivy was an effective warning but a poor substitute for the real thing. I keep waiting for the final thunderclap. Maybe I was even asking for it tonight.

So I could crush both of them before they get to Callie.

Callie, who I crushed and belittled with a dismissive smile. A girl who deserves better, yet thinks that better is me.

I glance at Tempest, idly blowing smoke through his nose—a dragon contemplating the art of burning the village below. “This is the part where I’m going to admit being glad I didn’t go to Dubai to spend Christmas with my parents and their crew. You’re more entertaining than a multi-mill superhero movie.”

I gift him with a bold smile that doesn’t reach the essential organ I’m told smiles come from. “I’m glad you were beside me tonight, even though you didn’t do shit.”

“It’s not my job to stir up your childhood traumas with your father. It’s my duty to keep you in check. We’re not winning over the Nobles by having a temper tantrum at the kids’ table.”

I drop the ash from the blunt into the tray between us. “Sabine’s the one who brought up Callie.”

“Dude, I can’t keep track of all your trigger words.”

The bedroom door bursts open, both of us swiveling to the sound. I didn’t put on any lights in the room as we lit up and contemplated my dinner showdown, so it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the hallway light rimming the form stomping into my territory.

It’s not my father or Sabine, that’s for sure. I narrow my eyes at the surprise intruder, who, once out of the shadows, turns out to by my sister.

She snarls. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t be glib with me.” She halts in the middle of the room and plants her hands on her hips. “Did you think you were funny in there? Brave? A hero?”

I suppose I have to stand up for this. Pushing on the armrests, I rise, unwittingly towering over her. “Did you really expect me to sit through dinner without mentioning a word after what we’ve been through?”

“You’ve been through? You’ve been through?” Emma’s outrage riddles her cheeks and creates hollows under her eyes. “What about the past two years I’ve endured under our father’s hand?”

“I understand your pain, but—”

“You don’t. Ivy’s dead, and I’m sick over that—over what you and Callie had to witness, how horrible it must be to carry around when no one’s brought to justice for it, but you know what? Same here. I have your rage. I possess your hunger for justice. I’ve been harboring this shit for years and the cravings only get worse. But unlike you, I’ve had time to cultivate. To deliberate. And therefore, to put together a patient, cutting plan that puts your flashbang revenge scheme to shame.” Emma takes a deep breath. “I was able to get Callie on my side before you. I had Piper helping me before you even knew what the fuck was going on. Though clearly, my efforts mean shit-all, but you should’ve given me respect in there or acknowledged my pain and allowed me to speak up when I wanted to. And in that dining room, you took away my choice.”

I stare at her hard. My jaw clamps shut.

Emma snatches at my silence. “You think you bear all the responsibility, that leadership and reformation falls on you. It doesn’t. I am a legacy. I am a fallen Virtue. If anybody gets a say in how Sabine’s taken down, it’s me.” She slams her palm against her heaving chest.

“You’re right,” I say in a low voice, my blood simmering. “I should’ve handled it better in there.”

Emma snorts. “I suppose that’s an apology coming from you.”

“I mean it.”

She looks to Tempest. “Anything to add?”

He raises his hands, palms facing her. “Your argument is sound. You’re the boss.”

Emma’s brows relax. “When we get back to Briarcliff, we’re working together. And you’re going to let me decide if whatever you’re concocting in your vengeful head is the right move. Everything that happens to us starts and ends at Briarcliff. We’re not going to decide Callie’s fate over Christmas dinner, in a Manhattan high-rise with anger and spite as our muse. Is that clear?”

Tempest purses his lips. “Crystal, your most respectful legacy.”

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