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There was no point dancing around the issue. To dissemble would only draw out his own torment. Fiore drew in a sharp breath and spoke. “One of them had me.”
A horrible silence fell.
“You mean…” The suggestion seemed to pain Enzo almost as much as the memory haunted Fiore. “He took you by force.”
Fiore hastened to correct him. “He didn’t have to force me. I offered.”
Enzo’s brow furrowed. “Of your own volition?”
“I offered,” Fiore insisted.
Enzo appeared no less perplexed.
Fiore endeavored to explain. He owed him that, at the very least. “I knew they meant to kill me from the start. They never bagged or blindfolded me. I saw their faces all the while. So I knew I’d be disposed of as soon as they received the ransom. I had to escape before then. When they…” His hand throbbed at the memory. Worse still were the recollections that echoed further back to his escape from the conservatorio. “When they acquired their proof, the blood made the ropes slick, and one less finger made my hand smaller. I had to slip my bonds—but I needed a distraction, and—”
Enzo raised his hands and looked as though he meant to say something.
Fiore’s tongue ran on, the flood of words erupting from him, unable to stop himself. “The one they left behind didn’t like me talking—he didn’t want to play at cards or riddles—and so I offered him all I had left—what everyone wants of me—and—”
“Fiore,” said Enzo.
“There was a moment afterward—there’s always a moment afterward—he was weak, disoriented—I knew I had to slip free in that instant—and I did—”
“Fiore,” Enzo said again, reaching for his hands.
Fiore snatched them from his grasp. “That’s when he stabbed me. And I ran.”
And when Enzo had arrived, at long last, to rescue his traitorous concubine.
Enzo stared at him in the ensuing silence.
Fiore knew not how to break it.
“I defer to your expertise,” said Enzo at last. “But from your description, it doesn’t sound as though your offer was sincere.”
Fiore winced.
“Forgive me,” Enzo added quickly. “A poor word for it. I didn’t mean to imply… What I meant is, to offer something—anything—in exchange for your own life… You realize the difference, don’t you?”
“There’s always an exchange,” Fiore replied, his bitter tone surprising even himself.
Enzo fell silent.
Fiore drew in a steadying breath. “I understand if you wish me to leave.”
Enzo’s already-furrowed brow twisted further in confusion. “Why the deuce would I ask you to leave now?”
“Because I’m soiled. Or because I’m disloyal.” Fiore shrugged. “Pick one.”
Enzo stared at him. “You’re neither.”
Fiore scoffed.
Yet Enzo wasn’t daunted. “You offered up what you had to survive.”
“Out of cowardice,” Fiore spat. “Because I feared death more than…”
Enzo took up where he trailed off. “You could never have escaped without courage. Only a monster would condemn you for it.”
