His voice dipped lower.
“When he is nearly killed by the people he was sent to govern, he learns the cost of leniency.”
He looked down at her, his gaze unnervingly calm.
“When his fiancée flees at the first sign of imperfection, he learns what love amounts to.”
Aoife forced herself not to retreat from his shadow. “That doesn’t mean you have to become—”
“Strong,” he supplied.
He smiled again.
“Efficient. Uncompromising.”
Her pulse hammered.
“That is what I became. Not because of a fire. Not because of scars.”
He leaned a fraction closer.
“But because weakness is remembered far longer than kindness.”
Aoife drew a careful breath. “I didn’t come to insult you.”
“No,” he said. “You came to understand me.”
He reached out and touched a strand of her hair, checking its place as though she were a picture hung askew.
“And that,” he murmured, “is the insult.”
Her throat tightened.
He released the strand, letting it fall.
“If you are wise, Aoife, you will not seek to interpret me again. It is not your task. It is not your place.” His voice softened, intimate and cold. “You have a role here. That is all.”
Halverton returned to his seat behind the desk.
“You may go,” he said, already concerning himself with other matters. Aoife stood to leave. When she reached the door, he spoke again.
“As you can see, there is nothing to understand.”
Chapter 22
She didn’t fully breathe until she reached her chamber door.
Inside, the room was dark. Clara hadn’t lit the lamps. The air was still. The bed was empty.
Cormac was gone.
Her chest tightened before she could stop it. She’d have heard something if he’d been caught. He must have slipped off. She wished he’d stayed long enough to say goodbye.
Would she ever see him again? Appearing on the estate in Athraith form was too dangerous, though she knew that wouldn’t stop him. It made her both fearful and hopeful.
Aoife shut the door softly behind her and sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around herself, trying not to think of Cormac lying there earlier. She tried not to think of how badly she’d messed up. Again. If she’d only waited, considered how best to use the knowledge Mrs Harrow had gifted her. Why had she rushed off without thinking?
She fiddled with the bracelet Cormac had made for her. At least she still had their plan. If he could retrieve the barrel, that would be something.
