Page 20 of Reign

“Sam, you’re not the heir anymore! You’re not a princess at all!”

His words rebounded cruelly through the room, so utterly bizarre that at first Sam couldn’t process them. It was as if Jeff had spoken in German. The sounds just didn’t fit together right.

Her reply came out hoarse. “What do you mean, I’m not a princess?”

“You were missing, okay? No one had any idea where you were. No one knew when, orif,you planned on coming back.”

“Beatrice knew! I left her a note!”

Sam glanced at her sister as if hoping Beatrice would chime in, but of course, Beatrice just lay there, quiet and still.

“We all saw that note. Anju did her best to keep it a secret, but Lord Orange knew about it,” Jeff explained, naming Marshall’s grandfather. “He’s really angry with you both. He must have told a few other peers, because pretty soon word got around that you and Marshall had run off together. So the Senate put forward a motion to strip you of your titles, and the House of Tribunes approved it.”

“What?”

“You’re no longer Her Royal Highness, the Princess Samantha. You’re just…Sam.”

Sam braced a hand against the wall, trying to regain some semblance of balance. The world had gone wildly off-kilter. “You stripped my titles because I was gone for a month? Don’t you think that’s an overreaction?”

“I didn’t do anything; Congress did.” Jeff’s face colored as he added, “You do remember the branches of government and separation of powers, don’t you?”

“Oh, come on!” Sam burst out. “Congress may have voted on it, but youletthem! If you’d spoken up, they would have stopped!”

“Youlet them, Sam! You wrote a statement of renunciation right there in your note to Beatrice! ‘I need to stop being the Princess of America’?” Jeff lifted his hands into vicious air quotes, reciting her note back to her. “ ‘I’m choosing love over duty’? Come on, Sam, what else were we supposed to think?”

As swiftly as it had come, her rage seeped away, leaving nothing but an aching sorrow in its wake.

“This is the Duke of Orange’s fault, isn’t it,” she said heavily. Marshall’s grandfather had done this to punish them. He’d adamantly opposed their relationship, and now he was taking revenge.

Jeff shook his head. “I think he voted in favor—almost all the dukes did, especially the Old Guard—but the Duke of Virginia authored the bill.”

Lord Ambrose Madison? Sam blinked, trying to remember if she’d ever spoken to the squat, unpleasant man beyond a few polite words. What could he possibly have against her?

“I wish you’d said something, separation of powers be damned.” She suddenly felt exhausted on a bone-deep level. “When I said I needed to get away, I meant that I needed to leavefor now.I wasn’t trying to walk awayforever.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” Jeff demanded.

Because we’re twins,she longed to scream.Because you always knew how I was feeling before.

For most of their lives, she and Jeff had been able to communicate without speaking. Sam would wake up from a nightmare as a small child and find that Jeff was already coming into her room to comfort her, trailing his stuffed bunny on the floor. Or in middle school, when the clique of mean girls said something mocking or cruel, Sam would look up a few minutes later to see Jeff and Ethan outside the window of her classroom, beckoning her to come play hooky because Jeff “had a feeling she needed it.”

They had always shared an implicit understanding, as if some invisible twin mechanics clicked between them, keeping them quietly in sync. Until now.

“Sam.” Jeff reached a hand toward her, then seemed to think better of it. “Can you stay at Grandma Billie’s for a while? Just until we figure out how to break the news that you’re back.”

Her voice wavered. “I’ve lost my title, and now you don’t even want me at home?”

“It’s not about whatIwant; you know that. If you need money, you can talk to Anju,” Jeff added uncomfortably.

“Need money?” Sam repeated.

“Since your allowance has been cut off.”

Well, at least she knew why her credit-card accounts were frozen. That money belonged to the Princess Samantha, who’d been written out of existence with a stroke of the congressional pen.

One of the aides waved at Jeff through the window, and he nodded.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ll come meet you at Loughlin House later, okay?”