"To Niamh. To the circle."
His jaw works for a second before he answers.
"What kind of word?"
"The kind that says you've left. That we've ended it."
The silence that follows is not comfortable.
It is taut and sharp, and it hangs between us like an open blade.
"No," he says finally.
Not loudly, but with enough force that I feel it in my chest.
"We are not doing that."
"We have to."
He shifts to face me more fully, eyes narrowing.
"You think letting them believe we've fractured is going to help? You think giving them even the suggestion of a crack in the foundation is a good idea right now?"
"I think it's the only way," I answer, and I make myself meet his gaze, even when I see the storm building behind his eyes.
"They need to see me alone. Vulnerable. They need to believe they've won something. That you've abandoned the city, that I'm the weaker half of this alliance and that I have no more cards left to play."
His hand drags over his face, down his beard, and he leans forward, elbows on his knees.
"You want to put yourself in the crosshairs. Pregnant. Alone. You want to paint a target on your back just to draw them out?"
"Yes."
"Jesus, Keira."
"I don't need protection right now," I say.
"I need options. And the only way I'm going to get those options is if we look like we've broken apart. If I'm left behind in Dublin, if the Council believes you've gone soft or gone south or gone quiet, then they'll try to pull me into their fold. Padraig will make his move. Liam will think he's got a shot with me. And Moretti will come looking to build."
His eyes flash at that.
"Moretti?"
I nod.
"He'll hear about it. He already has people circling. I want him to think the Irish side is splintered. That the marriage meant nothing. That you're done playing kingmaker. He'll come thinking he can take what's left."
Ruairí shakes his head, slowly at first, then with more force.
"This is a risk."
"All of it is a risk."
"You're asking me to walk away."
"I'm asking you toactlike you're walking away."
He is quiet again.
