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Rochelle felt the breath catch in her throat and her eyes go big. She wanted to be excited to learn that Trisha hadn’t been made up by the people in charge of the anime, but Aric’s use of the past-tense had not escaped her notice. Nor had his choice of description of their relationship.
“Trisha died in our final year,” Aric said. His grip tightened around the brooch and he lowered it to his lap. “She and Cecilia had been chosen as student aides to assist a younger class on an annual excursion to the eastern mountains for immersion training. Every morning Trisha rose early to get in her own training away from the group, and one morning it went wrong.” He paused and swallowed a little harder. “I heard that her scream echoed through the camp louder than the sound of the collapse. Cecilia was fairly traumatized from finding her friend in that state. She withdrew, completely disappearing, and ultimately finished her education under the guidance of a private tutor. We got little more than sporadic letters reassuring us of her continued survival for most of a year.”
Rochelle’s chest ached and a tear rolled down her cheek. The story he’d described was terrible. Not just because Trisha had been so strong and inspirational—from the way she was portrayed—but because Rochelle could sympathize with the kind of heartache that hit in the aftermath. She hadn’t seen Bridget’s body at any point after Bridget’s death, but the loss of her remained a chasm in Rochelle’s soul that she doubted would ever fully close. Whether Cecilia had been as close to Trisha as Rochelle had to Bridget was irrelevant.
Then there was the pain that dimmed Aric’s eyes and tightened his jaw when he told the story. The tragedy would have been something like fifteen years earlier, but the pain of that sort of loss never went completely away. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said they were close.
Rochelle let her gaze drop down to the white-gold brooch resting on his leg, partially beneath his fingers. “Aric, I’m so sorry…” She wanted to offer words of sympathy, to assure him she understood grief, but the words died on her tongue when something else registered. “But, how did—”
“Exactly.” He drew a deeper breath. “We thought it had been lost, crushed beneath the landslide.” He lifted it again and tapped beside the crack. “The last time I saw it, it was undamaged.”
She frowned, trying to make this strange development make sense. “Do you think Denham was responsible?”
“I can’t ignore the possibility now,” Aric said. “It’s not as if I’ve ever had his itinerary.” He tucked the brooch again into his pocket. “The other problem is Cecilia. I’m going to have to ask her about that day, about this brooch, and she’s going to want to shut me down. It’s the one thing she’s always refused to talk about.”
“Trisha was your friend, too,” Rochelle said, trying to speak carefully and still express her honest opinion. “If anything, the two of you should have been able to lean on each other through that tragedy. You should certainly be able to toss around theories now about how Denham got his hands on that brooch, or if it’s at all possible the collapse wasn’t an accident.” She swallowed hard at her own words. “That is what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
Aric inclined his head. “It is.”
“And you think Cecilia will lie?”
He offered a bitter smile. “When Cecilia came back, she was significantly stronger than she’d been before, and she had acquired an odd new skill. She can always, without fail, tell when someone lies in her presence. No matter if they use magic to disguise their lie or if they lie indirectly—it’s as if she sees the truth in all situations.”
Rochelle stared at him. “Then … how…?” She tapped herself in the chest inarticulately.
“She wasn’t as on-board with bringing you here as the rest of us were,” Aric said. “She also said she couldn’t point to a reason why, cautioned me to keep my guard up, and never said anything more.”
“I thought we were friends!”
“You are, now.” His moment of amusement faded. “She’s never said as much, but I assume that if she can detect lies so well, she can also lie more convincingly. I was hoping you would be able to see through them, too, but as I mentioned before, it was a longshot.”
Rochelle drew a breath, taking a second to process everything he’d said.
“You are incapable of lying to me, Rochelle Bailey.”
She gasped at Denham’s words in her memory. Words she’d fairly quickly dismissed as he’d proceeded to torture her for information.
“Rochelle?”
She blinked rapidly to clear her vision and looked out into Aric’s furrowed gaze again. “When he had me in the cave, Denham told me I couldn’t lie to him. I thought he was just being arrogant, but what if he has the same power as Cecilia?”
Aric’s jaw tightened and a darkness she hadn’t seen before on his face, not directly, settled over him. “I don’t think that’s the proper question. I think it’s time I pushed Cecilia on who her master was during the year she was gone.”
Chapter Fifteen
Aric paced to the large office window, pushing aside the sheer drapery with an easy motion. He stood, staring out into Tinsley’s flowering hedge garden, fist curled tight at his side and his back rigid. Even through the fine clothing covering him practically from chin to toes, the tension in his body was obvious.
Watching him like that made Rochelle’s heart hurt. Surely he hadn’t expected their present-day ordeal with Prince Denham to be mixed in, even potentially, with the heartbreaking loss of a friend who’d clearly meant so much to him. She watched the arm she could barely see move, as if he had tucked it into his pocket, and seconds later he lowered it fully to his side. His fist was clenched too tightly for him to be holding the brooch without breaking it more.
She pulled her lips between her teeth. It was clear he was struggling, and she wanted to help, but she also felt like she was intruding. Then his shoulders lifted with a shuddering breath, and she moved without another thought, spurred by nothing more than the need to ease at least a fraction of his suffering. Rochelle stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso, resting her cheek between his shoulder blades. She pressed herself against him, holding tightly.
Aric lifted a hand to lay over hers. “Rochelle?”
“I know that what’s happening, and what happened before, isn’t my fault,” she said, “but I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the pain you’re feeling right now. I’m sorry you lost someone so precious to you.” Tears burned her eyes, but she held them back. “I know grief … well enough to understand that the last thing you want to hear is how well I understand. If there’s some way I can help, if you need a shoulder, or space, please—”
Aric threaded his fingers through hers and gave a deliberate squeeze, moving her hand a little higher over his chest. “You’re talking about what happened with your parents?”
It was her turn to draw in an unsteady breath as a couple of tears escaped, soaking into his shirt and dripping off her chin. “Everyone.” The word escaped her in a haggard whisper as faces cascaded through her memory, some clearer than others.
