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He’d always imagined that one day he’d ride to the rescue, crushing the purists with one well-coordinated stroke, while simultaneously pulling Tabby to safety and freeing Caden and Rose from nearly lifelong servitude.
“Would you ever have told me…told us?” Rose’s voice was scratchy.
“No,” he admitted. “I hadn’t planned on it. I hoped I could dismantle the whole thing without letting you know. I’d planned to tell my parents that they had to keep my name out of it. I had even planned to anonymously give some of the non-critical information I’d found over the years to the Grand Master, as long as he offered you and Caden a chance to leave the Trinity Masters with no repercussions. Then you and Caden could go on and have a normal life.”
“A normal life?” Her voice was slightly higher than usual. “A normal life?”
“Rose,” Marek said. “You need to tell him the truth. He’s been truthful with you. It’s your turn.”
“I’m not going to tell him—”
“Please, Rose. Now that you know what he thinks was going on, he deserves to know what really happened after he was hurt and evacuated to London.”
Weston’s head snapped up and he looked at Marek. “What happened?”
Marek watched Rose for a moment. She’d turned to face the fire, her back to them, her body once more visible through the white dress. Marek shifted his attention to Weston.
“When we were in the basement, she told me a story. A story about two young people being systematically manipulated and tortured.”
Weston’s hands clenched into fists. “What? What happened? What don’t I know?”
Marek didn’t reply, but instead looked at Rose.
Weston got to his feet and went to stand beside Rose, looking down at the fire. He stood on her right so he could see her out of the corner of his left eye.
“When I woke up, in the closet in the cottage, you seemed angry,” she said. “Why?”
“I’m sorry. There were, are, too many things going on.”
“But later you held me. Let me cry.”
Weston closed his eyes, the light from the fire filtering through his lids. “I let myself forget.”
“Forget what?”
“That you were grieving. That you’d just lost Caden. That…that you weren’t the girl who said she loved me. Forget that a lifetime had passed since then.”
“You were trying to keep your distance,” she murmured. “That’s why you sounded angry.”
Weston didn’t reply. It didn’t seem like he needed to. And his throat was tight with embarrassment and remorse.
Now that Caden was dead, it was easy to see that he should have reached out to them. It wasn’t fair of him not to have contacted them just because he was heartbroken. They deserved to know that his parents hadn’t actually succeeded in killing him.
Rose made that same odd sound. He hunched his shoulders, bracing himself for the laughing or cursing he was sure was coming.
Instead, a gasping sob escaped her lips, and Rose reached out to brace both hands on the mantel.
“Rose?” Weston started to reach for her, then stopped, unsure if he should.
She didn’t reply for a moment, then pushed off from the mantel, turning to face him. Weston mirrored the pose. Marek stood, knees slightly bent, hands relaxed at his side as if he was ready to jump in and break them up.
Rose took a slow breath, then started to speak. “When you…when Elroy made me kneel for you, you took over the punishment and tried to lessen it. You didn’t think of me as a submissive. I was still…still Rose.”
Thinking back on that night made him feel ill. He didn’t say anything, simply waited for her to go on.
“We went back to the room and you took care of me. Gave me something for the pain.”
His voice was thick with regret. “I was the one who hurt you.”
