“Nothing,” she lied, but she could hardly catch her breath.“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” he said.“What did that letter say?Why is it so upsetting?”
He reached for the page and she gripped it tighter.“Don’t,” she whispered.“Please don’t.”
He hesitated, stopping without taking it, but he was still taut with concern as he stared at her.She let her gaze move to the rest of the room and saw all their questions, as well.Saw that her friends, like him, wouldn’t let her lie her way out of this.They would think that forcing her hand would help, not knowing what they would unleash.But it was inevitable now.Not something she could hide.
Perhaps the true fantasy was her foolish belief she ever could.The moment she let any of these wonderful people into her circle, her heart, the truth was bound to sully it all.She glanced back at Callum and their eyes met.She held there, memorizing this last moment before he would find out the truth.Before everything in her world came crashing in.How she had treasured these few scant weeks when she had been considered a friend.When she had been loved.
“Valaria,” he said gently, and reached for the paper again.
This time she let him, because there was no use playing keep-away.Callum read the two lines, his expression becoming confused and even more deeply concerned.
“What does it say?”Flora asked gently.
Valaria forced herself to look at the other three.She had not wished to do this with an audience, but it seemed there would be no hiding the truth from anyone anymore.Not if someone else, someone with a terrible agenda, already knew it.
“It…it says that the author of the letter, whoever they are, knows what I did to my husband,” she whispered.“They know…they know that I murdered him.”
