The Final Gambit (The Inheritance Games, #3)(17)

Grayson had forced Skye to leave Hawthorne House—for me. “I made sure you had a place to go,” he said stiffly.

“I didn’t let you rot away in prison,” Skye continued dramatically. “I didn’t force you to grovel to friends for decent legal counsel. Really! Don’t you boys talk to me about forgiveness. I’m not the one who abandoned you.”

Nash raised an eyebrow. “Debatable, don’t you think?”

“Nash.” Skye made a tsking sound. “Aren’t you a bit old to be holding on to childish grudges? You of all people should understand: I wasn’t made to be stationary. A woman like me can absolutely die of inertness. Is it really so hard to understand that your mother is also a person?”

She could shred them without even trying. Even Nash, who’d had years to get over Skye’s lack of motherly impulses, wasn’t immune.

“You’re wearing a ring.” Jameson cut in with a shrewd observation.

Skye offered him a coy smile. “This little thing?” she said, brandishing what had to be a three-carat diamond on her left ring finger. “I would have invited you boys to the wedding, but it was a small courthouse affair. You know how I detest spectacle, and given how Archie and I met, a courthouse wedding seemed appropriate.”

Skye Hawthorne lived for spectacle.

“‘A courthouse wedding seemed appropriate’,” Grayson repeated, digesting her meaning and narrowing his eyes. “You married your defense attorney?”

Skye gave an elegant little shrug. “Archie’s children and grandchildren are always after him to retire, but my darling husband will be practicing criminal defense until he dies of old age.” In other words: Yes, she’d married her lawyer, and yes, he was significantly older than she was—and quite possibly not long for this world. “Now, if you’re not here to beg for my forgiveness…” Skye eyed each of her three sons in turn. “Then why are you here?”

“A package was delivered to Hawthorne House today,” Jameson said.

Skye poured herself a glass of sparkling wine. “Oh?”

Jameson withdrew the disk from his pocket. “You wouldn’t happen to know what this is, would you?”

For a split second, Skye Hawthorne froze. Her pupils dilated. “Where did you get that?” she asked, moving to take it from him, but like a magician, Jameson made the “coin” disappear.

Skye recognized it. I could see the hunger in her eyes.

“Tell us what that is,” Grayson ordered.

Skye looked at him. “Always so serious,” she murmured, reaching out to touch his cheek. “And the shadows in those eyes…”

“Skye.” Jameson drew her attention away from Grayson. “Please.”

“Manners, Jamie? From you?” Skye dropped her hand. “Color me shocked, but even so, there’s not much I can tell you. I’ve never seen that before in my life.”

I listened closely to her words. She’d never seen it. “But you know what it is,” I said.

For a moment, Skye let her eyes meet mine, like we were two players shaking hands before a match.

“Sure would be a shame if someone got to your husband,” Nash piped up. “Warned him about a few things.”

“Archie won’t believe a word you say,” Skye responded. “He’s already defended me against bogus charges once.”

“I’d wager I know a thing or two he’d find interesting.” Nash leaned back against a wall, waiting.

Skye looked back to Grayson. Of all of them, she still had the tightest hold on him. “I don’t know much,” she hedged. “I know that coin belonged to my father. I know that the great Tobias Hawthorne cross-examined me for hours when it went missing, describing it again and again. But I wasn’t the one who took it.”

“Toby was.” I said what we were all thinking.

“My little Toby was so angry that summer.” Skye’s eyes closed, and for a moment, she didn’t seem dangerous or manipulative or even coy. “I never really knew why.”

The adoption. The secrecy. The lies.

“Ultimately, my darling little brother ran off and took that as a parting gift. Based on our father’s reaction, Toby chose his revenge very well. To get that kind of response out of someone with my father’s means?” Skye opened her eyes again. “It must be very precious.”

Go to Jackson. Toby’s instructions to my mother echoed in my mind. You know what I left there. You know what it’s worth.

“You don’t have Toby.” Jameson cut to the chase. “Do you?”

“Are you admitting,” Skye said cannily, “that my brother is alive?”

Anything we told her, she might well sell to the press.

“Answer the question,” Grayson ordered.

“I don’t really have any of you anymore, now do I? Not Toby. Not you boys.” Skye looked almost mournful, but the glint in her eyes was a little too sharp. “Really, what exactly are you accusing me of, Grayson?” Skye took a drink. “You act like I’m such a monster.” Her voice was still high and clear, but intense. For the first time, I could see a resemblance between her and her sons—but especially Jameson. “All of you do, but the only thing that I have ever wanted was to be loved.”