Page 61 of Reign

Sabine chuckles. Her cloak ripples with the movement. Something glints under the velvet, and my breaths pause.

The knife. Thorne’s blade. Ivy’s death.

Sabine casts her gaze up, her arms spreading to her sides. “You stand here before your prospective brothers and sisters, mentors, and rulers.”

The second story sconces gleam alive, each one lighting before the next, until all the hoods—both light and dark, black and gold, their outlines taking shape with fiery auras until I’m surrounded by a circle of them on the upper level.

Their faces are unidentifiably black, but experience has taught me they stand according to their ranks. Next to Sabine, the tall man in what I originally thought was a deep blue-black, in this light is a black-purple—the sign of a royal. It has to be Daniel Stone.

On the other side of Sabine would be the next princess. I squint. Falyn, or Violet? I can’t tell.

Dragging my gaze in the opposite direction, a magnet pulling at the same time it’s repelling … I know who I’ll find next to Daniel. The prince.

The purest Noble.

Chase Stone.

My chest sinks with an exhale, almost as if my lungs deflate of all oxygen when I set my eyes upon him. It hurts, just seeing his outline, blurry and obscured by a heavy velvet cloak.

It burns.

Swallowing, I tear my gaze away, skimming the red cloaks on either side of the monarchs—cloaks I noticed the older men wear during the Noble initiate’s underground ceremony, like Marron and Dawson. They must be the viscounts. Including Miss Lacey, a teacher who could barely suppress her gag reflex at the sight of a used tampon on the ground of her classroom, now positioned ruthlessly beside her underground queen.

The marquis are next. Chase’s buddies, Falyn’s cronies. Then the rest of the barons and baronesses, because no one is an initiate now. Just me.

It’s funny and a little sad how I’m coming to understand the rules of these societies so much clearer at the moment I must ruin them.

“Accept these men and women, boys and girls, into your fold, dearest initiate,” Sabine continues, “for they will be all you have once this night is over.”

Hairs spike at the back of my neck. “Touch my family, touch one inch of them, and I’ll kill you.”

“Oh, my.” Sabine feigns shock as she palms her chest. “We would never take it that far, dear one. You are our daughter now, but that does not mean your family will suffer. They will merely become second, for your priority lies with me, now. Your every decision shall come up against my permission. Your clothing choices, your grades, your choice of university. All made with your best interests in mind, of course.” Sabine defers to Daniel for a moment when a rumble emits from his hood. “But you are no longer independent, not until we deem it so. We are here to mold you into your better self, and you are to do as we ask with no question.”

I clear my throat. Her speech is mighty different than the one Emma prepared me for, but all I have to do is remember Ivy, bleeding out on the very floor I’m standing on. And Mom with her throat slit all because of a hidden bloodline she had no interest in claiming ownership of.

All because of this bitch.

“I’m curious why you’ve allowed me to reenter your temple when I’ve proven, on multiple occasions, how unstable I am.”

“Why, that only makes you a prime candidate,” Sabine answers. “It’s been so long since I’ve had the pleasure of breaking in an initiate. They all come so eager to please.”

I expect a rumble of discontent or insult to flow through the circle, but I hear none.

Sabine continues. “I can understand how this might be difficult for you, but you are here. Capitulating before us despite my continuous reminders that you are no longer the girl who first entered Briarcliff Academy, and you never will be again.”

“You took Ivy,” I whisper, my lips puckered as I whisper the curse. “You took my mother. But I will take you before you ever get to me.”

“What’s that, initiate?”

Daniel’s booming voice makes me jump. I glance up from the floor.

“I’m … going over my options,” I answer.

A snort comes from Daniel’s right. Chase. Daniel’s hood jerks at the sound, a profanity spat out.

“It’s rather clear you’re out of options, since you’ve showed up to become one of us rather than heed any warnings, from me or my future stepmother.” Chase’s voice rings out. He lowers his hood, as if he knows his impact on me is better seen than heard.

His blond hair shimmers in the low light, his brown eyes darkened to black, held in place by chiseled, flawless skin and bone.

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