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12. Fight
AFTER THE ARGUMENT with Roy, not even a spicy, steamy stew could lift my mood as I was having lunch in the dining hall. I’d blamed him, but I was at fault as well. The only time we could have shared more than a kiss, my angry thoughts had come forth. Yes, there was a side of me who couldn’t stop thinking about Roy hurting his twin, but he wasn’t a killer. I rubbed my forehead. That was where the confusion came from. How could a man I considered honourable and noble—and I had proof of that—have killed his own brother? Who was the real Roy? The man who kissed me and took care of me? Or the ruthless condottiero? Heck, my head was about to explode.
Peggy sat in front of me, enjoying the gravy with a crusty slice of buttered bread. “What’s the matter with you? You’ve found a new partner, a charming one, I’d say. The merging was a success. Ashcombe has prepared a fantastic stew, and you look like someone has spat in your tea. I wouldn’t do it, by the way, but Clare perhaps would.” She giggled. “Why are you so miserable?”
I didn’t want to share with her what had happened with Roy, not the part in the corridor. It’d be like betraying his trust, which didn’t make any sense, since he’d never trusted me, anyway. And in his opinion, I’d already betrayed his trust by doing exactly what he’d ordered me to do—find another partner. So bloody confusing.
I put my fork down and rubbed my temple. “Did you hear what happened in the training hall?”
“Oh.” Her bright smile dropped. “I heard something about the condottiero losing his temper because you were hugging Nathan.”
“I wasn’t hugging him, for Pete’s sake.”
She held up a hand. “I’m simply telling you what I heard.”
“Sorry.” With a scoff, I slumped on the chair. “But yes, that’s pretty much what happened. He found me a new partner, but then got angry because I merged with him.”
“Jealousy,” she muttered, as if she were having an epiphany. “We shouldn’t be jealous, should we?”
“No. It’s a foul sentiment. It ruins everything.” I pushed my food around, my stomach churning.
Peggy stopped eating as well and scribbled something on her notepad.
I craned my neck to read what she was scribbling. “What are you—”
“I’m sorry if I seem distracted.” She reached out and took my hand, hiding her notepad. “And I’m sorry for you. How do you feel?”
I exhaled. “I wish that Roy wasn’t the complicated man he is.”
“Ha! Forget about him. He’s too full of himself. Arrogant and bossy, that’s what he is, and you know what I think about what he did to his brother.” She lowered her voice. “You can’t trust him. Everyone who’s close to him gets burned, or worse, killed. I know. He has the charm of the dark and mysterious gentleman. Except that he isn’t mysterious, only deceiving, and he isn’t a gentleman, only cruel.”
Her words itched along my skin like a file of scorpions. No, Roy had a sweet, tender side. I’d seen it when we’d been fighting to save Shoshanna’s family; the way he’d cared for those people he’d never met; how he’d played with Shoshanna’s little sister and accepted the little toy she’d given him; how he’d come for me when the SS had caught me. But yes, there was a dark side of him that threatened to swallow what was good in his soul.
“I should be the miserable one,” she said, finishing her stew. “From a romantic point of view, that is.”
“What’s the matter?” A hint of guilt stabbed me for not having noticed Peggy’s tired eyes.
She leaned closer and tilted her head towards the table on the other side of the hall. “Michael.”
I turned to the man in question, who was eating and laughing with his partner, Bruce. Michael was a fine man with dark skin stretching over taut muscles and gentle amber eyes, and was also an uncommonly kind person. “What about him?”
She swallowed a piece of bread, then sipped her water. “I’ve asked him out, as you suggested a while ago.”
Months ago, but I didn’t want to pressure her. “And?” I shifted forward on my seat.
Her shoulders slumped, and her gaze dipped to the floor. “He said he has to think about it. What kind of answer is that?”
I winced, the responsibility for having encouraged her weighing on my chest. “Maybe he had other plans he couldn’t change.”
She gave me an ‘I’m not that stupid’ look. “Let’s face it. He doesn’t like me. He doesn’t like my sense of humour or personality. Likely, he doesn’t like my face, either.”
A huff came out of me. “Peggy, what are you talking about? Every time he’s around, you clam up and avoid his gaze. I think he doesn’t believe you like him.”
“I’m nervous, all right?” She gripped the table. “I can’t be myself when he’s close, and at the same time, I can’t stop thinking about him. He must think I’m stupid.”
“That’s an awful thing to say. Michael is a sensible, sweet man. I’m sure he doesn’t think that.”
“Then why doesn’t he want to go out with me?”
