Briar couldn’t defend himself or Rowan. “I spoke to Finola. She’s invited us to the gala.”
“Before or after you publicly sucked the alderman’s face off?”
“I didn’t kiss him.”
Viciously, Linden said, “But you wanted to.”
Briar couldn’t deny it. “Linden, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—Everything was meant to be casual with him, but I developed feelings, and I thought I cut things off early enough. We were just going to be friends, but these feelings won’tgo. And there’s the pr—” Magic was a garrote around his throat, stopping the word “prophecy” before it got out. Impotent frustration boiled within him, but he pressed on. “I promise you, though, I didn’t act on anything with Rowan. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I think—” He held his face in his hands. The nearly dried blood on his cheek smeared on his palm. “I wish I’d figured it out sooner.”
Linden leaned forward, wringing his hands. “Figured out what?”
“My feelings. None of this is fair to you. I think, maybe—maybe we shouldn’t be together.”
Linden recoiled. Poise abandoned, he slumped back in the lounge. “You wish to end things? With me?”
“I don’t want to string you along. Or hurt you.”
“And this is your idea of sparing my feelings? Did you ever feel anything for me, or was it merely the usual fascination with celebrity?”
“No!”
“Shall I become accustomed to this alienation, even from you?”
Briar closed his eyes. What could he say? He couldn’t speak of the prophecy. He could walk Linden through every step of his thoughts and feelings, convoluted as they were, and it wouldn’t make a difference. “I didn’t mean for everything to be so messed up. It just spiraled and… I don’t want to hurt you any more than I have. I understand if this means you’re too—too upset with me. To find the cure.”
“But Briar,” Linden said, “I have already found the cure.”
Briar thought he’d misheard. “What?”
“I found the cure.”
White noise rang in Briar’s ears. He thought this must be what people felt like when a bomb exploded near enough to knock out hearing but notconsciousness. Vatii let out a warbling noise of uncertainty. Shock and an assault of questions battled to the surface.
“H-how?”
“I’m still awaiting resources I’ll need.” Linden stood, pacing a few steps toward the window, his silhouette touched silver by moonlight. With his back to Briar, he was stiff and unreadable. “I have the answer to the curse cure, I only need the tools to enact it. I hoped to make use of my family’s facilities in Pentawynn to ensure its safety, but after that?” He swallowed audibly, choking down his emotions. “I intended to give you the cure as part of an engagement present.”
“Engagement.”
Voice quiet, Linden said, “Yes.”
Briar could hardly believe his words. Their relationship felt stiff, distant. Or was that merely by comparison to the easy intimacy he had with Rowan? He and Linden had hardly done more than kiss.
Linden turned enough for Briar to see a sliver of profile. “Since my affections are not reciprocated, I suppose I will have to return the ring.”
Briar felt wrung out and twisted. “It’s not that I don’t care about you, just…”
The weight of that sentence’s conclusion hung in the air between them.
“Just not as you care for him,” Linden finished tightly.
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you love him?”
Briar didn’t dare put that language to what he felt. “I don’t know.”
Linden walked back toward Briar, his expression rigid. Briar wished he would lash out again. It would be easier to deal with everything out in the open, not guarded within the fortress of Linden’s mind. Linden sat on the settee, his knees straight and parallel, his hands laid upon them, sphinx-like. Only the bob of his Adam’s apple betrayed how difficult it was for him to ask the next question.
