The bark of Linden’s voice echoed down the hall, reverberating in the cage of Briar’s straining lungs. What did Briar’s flat or his relationship with Rowan have to do with it?
These questions were clogged gears screaming into motion. The ticking clock finally arrived on all the answers. Icy with dread, Briar’s arms raised in gooseflesh.
He peeked out to see Linden taking a step backward. It was time to go.
Linden said, “You wanted this life for me, you wanted the fame and fortune. Well, this is the cost. We must take risks, we must protect what we have, and this is the best way, the only way. You’ve seen the papers. It isn’t only idle gossip and conspiracy theories any longer—very reasonable people are calling into question what really happened to our family all those years ago, and it’s only a matter of time before someone comes forward with proof.
Unless we rectify the situation and cover our tracks, as I’ve proposed.”
“But if he discovers that you were behind it all—”
“Our marriage contract will prevent him telling anyone, provided he agrees to marry me, which you’ve very much jeopardized with your rotten meddling. I won’t hear any more of it. Next you raise your voice against me in front of Briar, you will find you don’t have a voice at all. I’ll tithe an entire sea of fish so that I never have to hear you again. Do you understand me?”
Linden and Atticus still had their backs to the door, but Briar could see Adelaide’s and Gresham’s faces. Wan, petrified, pleading. Adelaide said, “Of course, of course, whatever you like, my darling. We’re sorry.”
And Briar saw them as if for the first time. Not as the overbearing parents who’d burdened their son with the weight of impossible expectations, but who had spoiled him so thoroughly that he’d learned he was their master. Had they actually sent Linden to Coill Darragh, or was that just a story, a twisted perspective? Had all their disapproval actually been fear for his safety? He didn’t know.
All Briar knew for certain was that they looked at their son and were afraid.
By now, Briar was sure of things that made his stomach churn like he’d eaten something spoiled. He needed proof, and he thought he knew where to find it.
First, he had to ensure he didn’t get caught.
Clutching Vatii to his chest so she wouldn’t flap, Briar ran back down the hall, casting a backward look as he reached the end of it. Just in time to see a hand push the door open, light spilling out.
He couldn’t climb the stairs—Linden would no doubt see his feet disappearing up the top of them. He turned a sharp left and went as fast as his legs could carry him. This hall stretched all the way back to the atrium. Any second now, Linden would emerge behind him, and there were no more statues to hide behind.
Heart in his throat, Briar pressed himself into the shallow alcove of a doorway and prayed.
Linden’s footsteps rang on the marble, louder as he reached the spot where, if he or Atticus turned, they might see the sliver of a shape sticking out from a doorway. Under Briar’s hands, Vatii’s little heartbeat fluttered. He watched as Linden passed without looking to his left, making his way up the stairs. Atticus trotted at his heels, sweeping up the stairs.
Briar waited a few seconds, let out his breath, then hurried the rest of the way down the hall.
He came to the atrium on the second floor. Heading for the stairs, he heard footsteps again and, looking up, saw Linden emerge from the hall above. Briar was in clear view. Still hugging Vatii, he whirled and pressed himself behind the thick column of the banister.
Linden hadn’t noticed him. His footsteps receded down the hall, but now Briar had a different issue altogether.
Linden was about to return to an empty bedroom.
Climbing the stairs, Briar peeked down the hall to see Linden quietly open the door and push through.
Briar ran, wondering what to do, wondering what to say when Linden inevitably questioned him about where he’d gone. From the bedroom, Linden called his name.
In a fit of mad inspiration, Briar dove left into his own bathroom, not bothering to flick on the light. He managed to shut the door without making a sound and, hurriedly, yanked the pull chain to flush the toilet. The sound of the swirling water seemed deafening. He busily washed his hands, spitting to dispel the silencing charm. He dried off, trying to get his panic under control, trying to convince himself there was no need to fear Linden.
Linden wouldn’t harm him, he thought, but then he remembered the slap and Rowan saying,You were ill and hurting, and he hurt you worse all because he was jealous.
He opened the door.
Linden waited on the other side of it. “Ah. There you are.”
“Er, yes, had to use the toilet.” Briar pointed to it.
“You could have used the en suite.”
Puffing up and doing his best to sound funny instead of out of breath, Briar retorted, “But this toilet’smine.”
After a suspicious pause in which Linden seemed to doubt his sincerity, he finally laughed.
