Page 48 of Reign By Wrath

We lapsed into silence. I picked at my food—eating slower and slower, taking smaller and smaller bites.

“One story.”

“What?”

“The cabin will be one story,” Alistair repeated. “Everton fell down the stairs when he was five. He broke his leg and lay there screaming and crying for two hours before the nanny finally came looking for him. The experience gave him a lifelong phobia. All the years I knew him, Everton either took the elevator or stayed on the ground floor. His old cabin will be grand, but it’ll only be one story. I guarantee it.”

“Okay,” I said, filing that away. “Thank you.”

If Alistair was waiting for me to say more, and it looked like he was—I didn’t. Instead, I turned toward the arcade games, trying to remember if the satellite photos showed which homes were one, two, or three stories.

“It’s the weekend,” Alistair said, breaking into my musing. “Turns out my father has upheld the same Friday night tradition of contemplating by the fire with a glass of scotch. You can meet him after dinner if you’d like.”

“Can’t tonight. Won’t be staying that long,” I replied. “Maybe another time.”

Another silence smothered us.

I dropped my fork, turning to the window. Why keep pretending? The eggs Benedict were sawdust and glue in my mouth.

“Is everything okay, Luna?”

“No,” I said honestly. “Everything isn’t okay.”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen today?”

I nodded slowly. “Something did happen. Today, I saw what my life would’ve been. Walking up to the mansion. Touring your home. It’s weird but... I saw it all so clearly. I saw myself growing up in this mansion, playing never-ending games of hide-and-seek, and ruling over the town as another Burkhardt.

“I saw it all, and I realized something,” I whispered. “It wouldn’t have been me running with Saylor and her crew, cheesing in their vacay photos, or hanging at Toussaint’s after school with her, Katie, Gabriella, Everleigh, and Piper. It would’ve been Winter.”

“Luna...”

“You know it’s true.” The words choked in my throat. “Winter was the same age as Saylor. They were in the same grade. If they grew up as cousins instead of Royal and Dreg, everything would’ve been different. Like you keep saying, Burkhardts don’t go after Burkhardts. Saylor never would’ve stood by while Royals and Dregs bullied her cousin. She never would’ve joined in.

“Winter would’ve been feared. She’d be protected. She’d be alive.”

“Luna.” Alistair rested his hand on mine. “You can’t go there. Losing yourself in what would’ve been is a sure way to madness.”

“Yeah,” I croaked. “You would say that. Because it’s all your fault.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I snapped up, finally meeting his eyes, and letting him meet the fury in mine. “It’s your fault. None of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for you. You’re the one who picked a fight with your psychotic best buddy and passed that grudge to the next generation. You’re the one who chose defending your crown as King Rogue over your family.

“You couldn’t just let Everton be the leader of the Rogues if he wanted it that fucking much? No. Instead, you told yourself you were abandoning us to keep us safe when really you were protecting what you truly loved. Power.”

Alistair reeled back like I tried to slap him. “That’s not true. You know that’s not true!”

“What I know is that my sister is dead and none of it had to happen,” I cried, furious tears streaking my face. “If you didn’t make us some damn secret. If you didn’t leave us clueless and defenseless. If you weren’t such an entitled rich boy who couldn’t accept living a regular, disinherited life with the housekeeper and her kids. You, you,you!”

“Luna—”

“Winter’s dead because of you!” I smacked the dinner plate. Ceramic and eggs burst apart on the floor, zinging sharp pieces that cut my leg. “I want you to leave. Leave Regalia. Leave the continent. You’re the reason Winter killed herself and why I was almost killed too. You being here just makes everything worse. Go.”

Alistair leaned back—face deathly pale, eyes thunderous. He stared at me without words, a thousand emotions flitting across his face. “Luna,” he said, so soft the rasp tickled my ear. “This isn’t you. Who is making you say these things? Tell me what happened. I’m here. I’m listening.”

My vocal cords squeezed, strangling the lump in my throat.

“No one is making me say this. Winter killed herself because she was lost and alone. Because she was abandoned... by you.”

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