Page 8 of Reign

“Because I said so.”

She makes a face at me but plants the stick in the dirt and pushes herself up anyway, brushing grass from the back of her dress. “What do you want?”

I stare down at her.

At her scabbed knee. Her messy braid. The ribbon half coming undone.

Nine.

My jaw tightens.

“You want to be in the family business?” I ask.

Her little brows pull together. “What?”

“Do you?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “Papá says I have to learn things.”

Of course he spoke to her already.

“And Mamá?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Adriana’s mouth twists. “Mamá says Papá‘s dramatic.”

A laugh almost leaves me at that, but it dies before it can become anything real.

“Listen to me,” I say.

She studies my face now, more carefully. Whatever she sees there makes her smile fade.

“This isn’t the restaurant,” I tell her. “It isn’t carrying messages or learning numbers or sitting quiet while grown men talk. If you’re in it, you’re in it. Understand?”

Her chin lifts in that stubborn way she’s had since she was old enough to say no. “I’m not stupid.”

“No,” I say. “You’re not.”

Then, before I can think better of it, I catch her by the arm and drag her down the embankment toward the canal.

She yelps, twisting against me, and I clap a hand over her mouth.

“Be quiet.”

My other hand closes around the back of her neck.

And I dunk her.

The water swallows her cry. She bucks beneath my grip, muddy water splashing up my legs.

A vicious part of me thinks, good.

After this, go cry.

Scream.

Run to Papá and tell him you won’t do this.

Tell him you hate me. Tell him no.