“In danger?” Robert finished, looking amused. “Of course not. Neither was I. Nor Jasper, nor Mason. None of us wereeverin danger.”
His tone made clear exactly how true that was.
Greyson scowled. “This is not the same.”
Robert’s mouth curved. “No. It never is, until it is.”
Greyson drained his glass. He had not intended to speak again, certainly not of anything meaningful. The brandy burned pleasantly in his throat, offering the illusion of steadiness. Robert sipped his own drink with the calm of a man who had mastered contentment.
Greyson had mastered many things. Contentment was not among them.
He stared into the amber liquid a moment longer before unforgivable words left his mouth.
“Aberon,” he said quietly, “what made you change your plans with your wife?”
The question startled even him. He felt the sharp twist of vulnerability in his chest the moment it left his lips.
Robert looked at him with slow, dawning interest. “My plans?”
“You intended only practicality,” Greyson said stiffly. “You sought a marriage of sense. Yet you… strayed from it.”
Robert’s mouth curved. “Strayed?”
Greyson’s jaw clenched. “When did it go wrong?”
Robert lifted a brow. “Wrong?”
Greyson glared at the table because glaring directly at Robert would have been intolerable. “You know what I mean.”
A low chuckle slipped from Robert, warm and unhelpfully knowing. “Callbury, it did not go wrong. It went entirely right.”
Greyson’s scowl deepened. “That is not helpful.”
“No, I imagine it is not.” Robert leaned back in his chair, studying him. “You are asking how I lost the battle before it began.”
Greyson stiffened. “I am not battling anything.”
“Of course you are,” Robert said mildly. “You’re battling yourself. And to answer your question… there is no moment, Callbury. There is no single instant where a man realizes he has gone too far. No warning bell, no flash of lightning. You do not notice until it is already done.”
Greyson’s pulse thudded uncomfortably.
Robert continued, half amused and half sympathetic. “You asked when itwent wrong. The truth is: there is no stopping the inevitable.”
“That,” Greyson said tightly, “is exactly what I feared you might say.”
“And yet,” Robert added with a shrug, “it is the truth.”
Greyson pushed a frustrated hand through his hair. “You sound like Jasper.”
“That is the gravest insult I have received all week,” Robert said lightly, then he lifted a drink. “If you are seeking advice on how to prevent falling in love, I am afraid I have none. I tried, and I failed spectacularly.”
Greyson stared at him, utterly appalled. “You are telling me it is hopeless?”
“No,” Robert said, giving him a look of gentle pity. “I am telling you it is human.”
Human.
He could not afford to be human. Humanity was weakness. Humanity had destroyed his brother, broken his mother, twisted his father into something cruel.
