Page 88 of Royal Reluctance

“It’s not funny,” I protest.

“It’s kind of funny,” she retorts. “Everyone in this family thinks it was their fault that Mom died. Kalle thinks it was because he wouldn’t quit sports and settle down with a nice girl, and Gunnar was all mopey because he was off racing in Europe and wasn’t around, and even O thinks it had something to do with a conversation they had three weeks earlier. If anyone should feel guilty, it’s me. She came to pick me up because I was too selfish and didn’t want a castle car to come get me. The guilt is mine, Bo. Don’t try to take it from me.”

“It’s not your fault. None of us liked having the castle car pick us up.”

Lyra lifts a shoulder. “You all have to give me this.”

“No, I don’t. I told Mom I married Hettie just before she left to pick you up. She was upset.”

“She wasn’t upset,” Lyra says.

“She… What?” And just like that, things shift. I’m glad I’m sitting down because it’s like the room rocks just like that one time an earthquake was felt in Laandia back when I was six. “No. She was mad because I told her I got married to Hettie.”

“No, she wasn’t. She was in a great mood. We were singing, just before—ABBA, because we were going to see Mamma Mia in London. She was going to take me, so I downloaded the soundtrack for her, and she was playing it. We were singing.” Lyra’s expression softens and she stares at a point above her phone so, I know she’s remembering.

I hate that I made her remember.

“We were having fun,” she says softly. “She was never upset when she picked me up. And that day there was no mad, no being upset.”

“You said you don’t remember…”

“I remember enough.” Grief washes over her features and a tear rolls down her cheek. My heart clenches because Lyra isn’t one to cry.

None of us are.

“Don’t,” I urge.

“Don’t what? It’s gotten easier to talk about.” She takes a deep breath and all I can think about is how brave my little sister is. “We got to the bridge and it was snowing, kind of sleeting. It was hard to see but she was still singing. Then the lights of the other car were right there... She stopped singing andwe—” She blows out a shaky inhale. “I don’t remember anything after that. I don’twantto remember anything else.”

I have to swallow a few times before I can say anything. “Lyra…”

“I do know that she was not upset about anything.” Lyra’s voice is husky but insistent. “She washappy. Happy to see me. She asked about what I’d done. She—I remember—she told me you were home, that we’d have a family dinner that night. She washappy, Bo. She wasn’t mad or upset or anything.”

The weight that had been pressing down on my shoulders like a pile of snow on the branches of a pine tree is suddenly gone. Lifted. Vanished.

Happy. She wasn’t upset.

She still could have been angry when she left the castle, but it was obvious she’d gotten over it by the time she got to Lyra. We could always tell when Mom was upset. There was never any hiding it. Dad could wear the mask, but it was always clear how our mother was feeling, even when she shouldn’t have been showing it.

She wasn’t angry with me. She wanted to see me.

I didn’t do it.

It wasn’t my fault.

It’s like the words are a billboard right in front of my face, and I’m reeling.

I don’t know how to deal with it.

“I have to go,” I mutter, finger stabbing the screen looking to disconnect the call. Lyra will never know what she just did for me, but there is no way I’m going to let her see me cry.

“Bo!” Her voice sharpens. “Donothang up on me. It’s bad enough that you ran away to the other side of the country when Ineeded all my family together. You sit right there and tell me just what the hell is going on.”

I nod but can’t speak. I focus on taking deep breaths, pushing the sob of relief down deep. I take a minute, and then another. Lyra waits.

“Hettie left because I thought it was my fault,” I finally manage. “I pushed her away. She didn’t have a choice. I thought marrying her was a big mistake because Mom died after I told her about it.”

Lyra nods. “That’s a messed-up way of looking at it.”

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