Page 65 of A Treason of Thorns

“I thought that I’d come here as your companion, too.” Wyn stands with a hand on the doorknob. “I thought it until the night before your father’s arrest began. And then he took me aside and explained. It wasn’t charity that led George to give me a home. He needed me. There was one thing he loved more than Burleigh House, you see. One thing he wasn’t willing to sacrifice in his role as Caretaker.”

“Wyn, don’t.” My voice is a small and broken thing, but Wyn goes on.

“It was you, Violet. He couldn’t die knowing the House would one day take your life, as well as his. So he asked me to stay when the arrest began.”

Wyn turns the knob and pushes the door open.

The room beyond is much changed. Not a stick of furniture remains, except for a pile of old bedding in one corner. Dust and dead flies lie thick on the windowsills. Carved into the far wall, the jagged letters of my name are still visible by moonlight.

VI.

Wyn crosses the room, and I follow after him like a moth drawn to flame. He reaches out and touches the place where Papa cut into Burleigh House.

“Blood and mortar,” Wyn says. “It can undo one binding and make another. But Burleigh didn’t want me—it wanted you. So we needed a lot of blood, and a lot of mortar. We waited as long as we could, but a year before the end of the arrest, your father was less and less himself, and there was nothing for it but to...”

His voice trails off. I can hardly breathe, thinking of what’s been done to both Wyn and my House. Of all the ways they have been bound and broken.

“Show me the rest,” I whisper, the words barely audible even in the absolute silence of this cursed room.

Wyn hesitates. Then, with a single decided motion, he pulls his nightshirt up over his head and drops it to the floor. He stands with his back to me, in only his loose linen trousers, and I can see what my father has done.

From the top of Wyn’s shoulders to the small of his back, my name is written in thick lines of scar tissue.VI—a copy in flesh ofwhat’s been carved into Burleigh’s wall.

I take in a sharp breath that’s already halfway to a sob. The sound rings loud in the emptiness of Papa’s room. “Oh, Wyn.”

I willneverforgive my father for this. For damaging the two things I love most in this world just to keep me safe. And while my desire to defend Burleigh is a determined constant, wishing I could undo the past for Wyn sets a fire in me.

“May I?” I ask. Wyn shrugs without turning around.

Stepping forward, I trace the tall capitals of my name with one finger. I put all of my heart into that gentle touch, as if I could heal with the strength of everything that lies between Wyn and me, and with the warmth of skin against skin. Wyn shivers, but doesn’t pull away.

“Why did you do it?” My voice breaks a little on the words, and I rest the flat of my hand against Wyn’s back. “Why did you agree to this?”

“I felt brave that day,” he confesses. “I haven’t often, since then.”

And I can’t bear it anymore—the things that have happened under this roof, the time we spent apart, the people we’ve become, the small distance that still exists between us.

“You are brave every day, Haelwyn of Taunton,” I tell him. “Again and again, you’ve stayed here for me, and Wyn—I never would have asked you to if I’d known.”

“I know,” he says, still without turning. “But I never could refuse you, Vi.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’m so sorry.”

Drawing closer to him, I press my lips to the hollow between his shoulders. Wyn’s breath catches and he turns to face me. The onlytime I’ve seen him look so bleak before was in Burleigh’s memory of my father’s death.

“Haelwyn. That’s not even my name,” Wyn says. “I had another, before I came here. I can remember that much, but I can’t recall what it was. The House magic—it works differently in me than in anyone else, because of the binding. Your father lost his health first and then his mind. But I’m losing my memory. I can hardly remember anything from before I was brought to Burleigh House. And half of what I remember from after, I only know because Burleigh was a witness to it. I can see it in my mind’s eye, but it’s from outside myself. And I don’t feel those memories, not the way I would if I was the one recalling them.”

“Why didn’t you say?” Hot tears spill from my eyes and I ignore them. “Wyn, let’s leave now. You and me together, just like you’ve always wanted. Run away with me.”

He smiles, but there’s bitterness behind it. “I can’t. Not anymore. I tried to get off the grounds after Falmouth was here and I did all that magic. Not to leave for good, mind you, just to clear my head. But the binding’s gone too far and I can’t. It’s as if I’m walking into an invisible wall, and if I keep pushing it feels like... like dying.”

“Blood and mortar, I should have let you go while you still could.”

I bury my face in my hands, because I think I’m about to fall apart. Wyn’s touch, gentle on the crown of my head, only makes things worse.

“I decided to stay, Violet,” he says. “I could’ve left. I decided to stay for the arrest, too. And to be bound to Burleigh. None of it isyour fault—I chose it all, for you.”

My mind is reeling. Burleigh and Papa are everything I believed was good and upright in this world, and to find that both of them boundchildren—