Page 3 of Bones of Revenge and Reckoning

“No, darling. That’s Nico’s.”

“Did you ask Santa for a bike?” I ask him, confused.

He laughs. “Tatty.” He uses the nickname for me that I hate. “There’s no such thing as Santa.”

The pressure in my head gets worse. “Yes there is!” I shout.

Mamma’s grip on my arm firms. “Darling, that’s enough. You’re ruining Christmas.”

“He is real!” I shout again.

“No, he’s not, stupid Tatty. The list goes to Mamma and Babbo. They buy the gifts.” My brother smirks at me with an ugly, disgusted look etched on his face. “How can you be so stupid? You’re older than me, and you still believe in Santa. You’re stupid, Tatty.”

“Nico,” Mamma says sternly. “Enough.”

“No, she’s so stupid. No one her age still believes in Santa.”

“B-b-but we all wrote to him. In school.” The tears come now, flowing down my face.

Babbo stands, and his face is red and angry. “Come here, boy.” He grabs Nico by the arm and roughly pushes him forward. “You made your sister cry. On Christmas day.”

“Sorry, sir.” Nico lowers his head, but I can see the smirk on his face.

“I ought to belt you.”

“Not on Christmas, please.” Mamma drags me to my feet. “Renata and I will go upstairs and get ready. Nico, be good. Darling, please. Not today.”

She pulls me out of the room and up the stairs. When we reach my room, she takes the new and super scratchy looking dress out of my wardrobe. “Let’s get this on you, darling.”

As she hands it to me, the pressure in my head explodes, and I scream and tear at it with all my might. Something rips, and the sound is so loud in the quiet room.

Mamma’s face goes tight, and her lips tremble. “Renata, what did you do?”

“I hate the scratchy dresses. I hate the doll. I wanted a bike!” I shout at her. “I was so good, Mamma. So good. Nico has been bad all year, and he got my present.”

“It’s not your present. Babbo doesn’t want you riding bikes.”

“Why not? My friends do.”

“You are not like your friends, darling. You’re special. You are so pretty.” She smooths a lock of my dark hair behind my ear. “You have a very important role. You know we aren’t like other families, don’t you?”

I shake my head, confused.

“We have more than them. A bigger house. More cars and staff. We have a dynasty to maintain, Renata, and you will play an important role in that. You’re too young to understand, but when you’re old enough, I will explain. One day, though, you’ll marry a man, like I did Babbo, and you’ll have babies. If you run around in pants, climb trees, and ride bikes, then the best men might not want you. Those things aren’t what nice girls do.” Her pretty lips narrow in that tight line they take when she’s angry. “Your friends might play on bikes, but that isn’t what good girls do and frankly, darling, we might have to talk about whether they are good people for you to spend time with or not.”

I didn’t get a bike, and I might lose my friends? This is the worst Christmas ever. The pressure that exploded is back. It feels like something is burning in my chest and pressing in my head. I need to do something to make it go away.

“Is it true about Santa?” I ask, sniffling through the tears.

“Yes, darling.”

“But then … who brings the presents?”

“Babbo pays for them, and I buy them.”

“And you got my list?”

She nods. “Darling, you’ll thank me one day. One day, you’ll have a man in your life wealthier and maybe even more powerful than Babbo.”

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