Page 337 of Reign

Why is the pool empty?

The message delivers.

A second later, bubbles appear.

I wait.

They disappear.

Nothing follows.

My mouth falls open.

He started answering and then decided not to?

I type again.

Luciano!

Delivered.

No bubbles.

I stare at the screen long enough to make sure my fury reaches him through it.

It does not.

Fine.

He can ignore me.

I can ignore him too.

I find my sketchbook beneath the clothes I left draped over the chair, climb into bed, and pull the sheet over my legs.

The room still smells like him.

That makes me angrier.

I open to a blank page and press my pencil against the paper.

The first line comes out dark and severe.

Good.

That can be his fault too.

By the time the front door opens downstairs, the bedroom floor is covered in paper.

Dozens of sketches surround the bed, every page torn from my book and tossed aside when the design failed to become what I wanted. Sleeves that don’t belong with the bodice. Skirts ruined by angry pencil marks. One dress that somehow became black feathers and violence.

None of them are right.

Because fuck Luciano Castillo.

That’s why.

The door closes.