Page 43 of Bitter Prince

But would she take Phoenix and me with her? I hoped so. I loved Mamma. She was gentle and always smiled, even when she was sad.

“P-promise what, Mamma?” The words trembled on my lips. I was scared. Somehow Papà’s home had become dark and scary.

“Protect your sister, Reina. Protect Phoenix at all costs.”

I nodded, my curls bouncing. “I will,” I promised, swallowing the lump of fear in my throat. “Mamma, why is the water red? I-is it a bath bomb?”

“Yes, my little queen.”

I took a step forward. “Can I have one too?”

Mamma’s eyes fluttered shut. “No.” Something monumental was happening. I knew this somehow, but my childish brain couldn’t grasp it. Mamma never denied us anything. “You have to be strong for Phoenix. Grandma will make sure you don’t repeat my mistakes.”

My terror grew with each breath, and so did my confusion.

“Mamma?” I called out in a small voice.

Her eyes opened—blue and bruised—and found mine. “You and Phoenix are my legacy. It doesn’t matter who your papà is.” I nodded my head even though I didn’t understand her words. She loved Papà, but things had been different since we came to Italy. Papà yelled more and Mamma cried more.

“S-sorry, Mamma.”

Her eyes opened. “Look at me, Reina,”she whimpered, and I stared at her wide-eyed.“We came into this world screaming and covered in blood. Promise me you and your sister won’t leave the same way.It’s too late for me. I’m leaving with someone’s blood on my hands.” She reached out her hand weakly. “Take the necklace.” I didn’t move, something about her voice rendering me immobile. “Now, Reina. Take it.”

I took a step forward, my feet soaking in the crimson-tainted water as I took the pendant. Her arm fell down the side of the tub with a heavy thud.

“Mamma, I’m scared.” Tears burned the back of my eyes. My little heart squeezed in my chest. I wanted to make Mamma better. Then I’d feel better. Then we’d be happy again.

“Go and play with your sister, Reina.”

My bare feet silent against the fancy floor and paintings of angels hanging above me, I let Mamma soak with her bath bomb.

I left her. I let her die. I should have saved her.

The words echoed and screamed in my brain—over and over again—piercing my ears until I started shaking.

I jerked upright, suddenly awake, my body covered in perspiration.

It all started and ended that summer. Or maybe it didn’t. The road had led me back to the beginning, and it had to be for a reason.

Because I didn’t believe in coincidences, and my path kept leading me back to him.

Amon Leone.

* * *

Sleep refused to find me.

I sat awake in the alcove by the window until the sun’s rays glimmered over a sleeping Venice and the deserted canal.

I waited for the girls to wake up. It only took a few hours, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Sometimes it was better to be busy than remember, but here I was, picking that summer apart piece by piece, like I always found myself doing.

“Man, Italy is way too sunny,” Isla grumbled, chasing the ghosts away. “Can someone pull the curtains closed?”

I smiled at her dramatics. “And California is less sunny, huh?”

She peered at me through one open eye. “Are you trying to be a smartass?”

I shrugged. “Someone’s got to be.”