Page 47 of A Murder at Kew Gardens

"So both investigations are now the same."

"Yes."

Saying it aloud joined the two halves, and the join was ugly. The same hand I had been hunting had spent that month measuring her brother for the gallows.

She turned away. "You should have told me."

"I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because if I had, you would have wanted to be part of it. And I couldn't have that. But now⁠—"

"But now, he's made Cosmos his target to attract me. 'Walk into my parlor,' said the spider to the fly. Well, Steele, this fly is too savvy to fall for that trap."

She said it lightly. My blood ran cold, declining to take it that way.

"You really thought I was in danger," she said softly.

I almost laughed. "I think you're in danger every time you leave the house."

The corner of her mouth twitched. Then it went, and I regretted the going.

"You should have trusted me."

"I do trust you."

"Then why keep this from me?"

The answer came at once. Because I was afraid. Fear and I were old acquaintances. I had simply never before permitted it a vote.

She looked up sharply. "You were afraid."

"Yes."

The admission cost less than I had budgeted for it. That is the trouble with hoarding a thing for a month. One forgets to reprice it.

"Of what?"

I said the only truth I had left. "Of losing you." Ten years of not saying such things, undone in three words, and the strangest part was the relief.

"You cannot say things like that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know what to do with them."

I smiled a little.

"I have much the same difficulty where you are concerned."

It was the most honest exchange we had managed in a month, and we had conducted it in under a dozen words. There was likely a lesson in that. I declined to learn it just then.

She looked down. Then back up. "I've missed you."

The words were so quiet I almost thought I had imagined them. The simple honesty of them nearly undid me. I had missed her too. Far more than was wise. I knew a lost campaign when I fought one.

"I missed you as well."