Page 7 of Reign

“It makes perfect sense.”

“She’s a child,” I say again. “And she’s a girl.”

One of his brows lifts. “Why so sexist?”

I nearly laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Because Mamá isn’t in this life.”

His mouth tips, not quite a smile. Not anything warm. “You would be very surprised what your mother is in.”

That lands wrong. Something cold slides down my spine.

He stands, ending the conversation. “She’ll listen to you. I could give the task to Rogelio.”

“No.” The word leaves me before I can think better of it.

Because Rogelio wouldn’t be careful. Rogelio wouldn’t soften it. Rogelio would make Adriana cry.

My father studies me for a moment, like he knew that would be my answer.

Then he nods once. “Good.”

I push to my feet, jaw tight, disgust churning low in my stomach.

As I turn for the door, he adds, “Don’t let your softness make her weak. If she’s going to survive this family, she needs to learn.”

My hand stills on the knob.

Softness.

Like that’s what this is.

Like wanting to keep a nine-year-old little girl out of blood and fear is some kind of flaw.

I open the door without answering.

And already I know this will be the first thing my father asks of me that I will hate him for.

***

Adriana is down by the canal when I find her.

She’s sitting in the grass with her shoes off, skirt bunched around her knees, dragging a stick through the mud at the edge of the water. The late afternoon sun catches in her hair. She looks small.

Too small.

For a moment, I consider turning around and telling my father I couldn’t find her.

Telling him I tried.

But if I refuse, he’ll give her to Rogelio.

So I walk forward, gravel crunching under my shoes.

She glances up at me, squinting against the sun. “Luciano.”

I stop in front of her. “Get up.”

Her face scrunches. “Why?”