Perhaps it was visible in my expression—the fabric of my being disintegrating—because Patrick’s hand came over my wrist and his face hovered before mine, imploring me.
“Shh,” he whispered. “It’s all right.”
Another lie.
“Was it Lord Shop who ensured the lever was pulled?” I asked. I needed this one last truth. I saw my mother’s face, terror consuming her, following her into death as she swung.
“Yes,” Theo said, hesitant now.
“But you knew?” There were no tears, no cracks in my voice. Just an emptiness I couldn’t put a name to. “Did you know my mother would die for this plan?”
They answered one after the other.
A shake of the head from Patrick.
Silence from Theo.
Answer enough.
I rose then, finally gathering my feet beneath me, Patrick rearing back with his hands proffered, as though waiting for me to fall. I faced Theo, compelled by whatever dregs remained of myself. “Did you walk into that courtyard, knowing my mother would die for your father’s benefit? Be man enough to answer me.”
Moonlight crept through and turned him bone-colored. His jaw shook. “Yes.”
And I thought,we were kids together. We grew up together. Did you forget?
A painful breath rattled out. “And… did you know he’d have me whipped afterward?”
Theo swallowed. His eyes went skyward and then to his shoes, his shaking hands into his pockets. Still, he wore that Artisan blue. “Yes.”
Patrick allowed me two hits. The first was open handed and landed across Theo’s cheek, a shock of crimson left behind. The second was a closed fist skidding across his jaw, the impact lackluster, my knuckles seizing immediately. Theo’s eyes were wild as he raised his arms to fend me off, but there was no need.
Patrick’s arms came around my torso like thick iron bands, pinning my arms down, and I settled instead for shrieking at Theo.
And I dug up every foul name Scurry had taught me and hurled it at him, then through him to his father, to Lord Tanner in the ground somewhere. To every minister in the House and all those that came before.
“Youfucking swank!” I shouted, bucking against Patrick’s hold, useless as it was.“Fucking godless bastard!”
And it wasn’t until Theo’s face was awash with tears that I caught my breath, which gave Patrick opportunity to whisper, “He saved us, Nina. I ain’t sayin’ it makes up for the rest, but you should know he got us all out.”
“Hisconsciencearrived too late!”
Patrick swore as I bucked again. “You’re right. Oy! Listen to me, you’reright! But his conscience saved you from the whip, and I can’t let you kill him, whatever satisfaction it might bring me.”
“My mother isdead!” I said. And my limbs weakened, my knees buckled. “Did she deserve it, Theo? DidI?”
Theo said nothing. From his place on the bench seat, I heard the soft sounds of his regret, and it meant little. It made up for nothing.
“Let go of me,” I said, and Patrick did by degrees.
I pulled myself away from his hands, and made my wooden limbs carry me away, back to the steps and out to the deck, ducking my head under the cabin roof and slamming the door behind me.
There was John, a wrinkled, calloused assortment of his three sons, whistling into the icy night, one hand on the tiller.
“Evenin’, miss,” he nodded to me, spitting over the side of the hull. “Should get some sleep while you can. We’ll be in Morland by sunup.”
I contemplated him a second longer, then walked toward him with my fist already clenched. What was one more strike? One more split knuckle?
But I was too obvious or too weak, and John stood easily with a slowness that warranted embarrassment and caught my fist in his wide hand.
