We exited the house in a knotted formation, Dresden and father in front, John and I in the middle with Lucian and Marietta at our sides. Melissande was clasped uncomfortably against her husband, bringing up the rear. Dresden and father spread to the sides as I entered the carriage, then motioned John inside. I could see Marietta’s wide eyes and bitten lip.
I moved my gaze from her and nodded to Dresden, whose face was dark, shoulders tight. I understood the need for people in the law to view the world in terms more black and white. But a softening of Dresden’s edges would be more than welcome.
“You came by horse? Stop by the White Stag for a drink on your way back,” I said. Dresden’s eyes narrowed and darted between us. Would he go to the tavern or follow behind us, just in case?
Father handed me a strong rope surreptitiously, so that any curious servants would be unable to see. We had somehow kept the entire debacle within the two rooms and behind the thick walls of the manor, the servants none the wiser. I motioned for John to hold out his hands. He did so with another raised brow, though his eyes were haunted and resigned. I tied the knot.
My eyes connected with Lucian’s, which were as haunted as John’s—but strength lurked behind the uncertainty. I nodded to him, held his gaze, tried to communicate everything I could in that one glance. Sorrow, apology, love, trust. Lucian’s expression broke for a minute, then he nodded back, shoulders firm, head up.
Marietta’s hands curled around the carriage door’s frame. “Gabriel,” she hissed, trying to get me to lean out. “What if he does something to you in the carriage?”
“He won’t.” Marietta understood honor. She’d understand later. I needed her to.
“But—”
“He won’t.” Sand slipped through the hourglass. “I’ll see you back at the house.” I touched her chin. “Everything will be fine.”
Everything wouldn’t be fine. But we all had to believe it to be.
They stepped away, as one, from the carriage. I closed the door and rapped the trap. The wheels rolled down the drive. Away from the beautiful estate with its ugly memories and unhappy inhabitants.
~*~
John was silent, staring at the rope binding his wrists. I didn’t know where to look. Out the window, toward the setting sun, bloody and fierce. At my friend, a murderer, a victim. At the pristine bundle sitting innocuously at my side, waiting.
“How did you let it go, Gabriel?” John’s voice was reflective and even. “How did you become you, and not me?”
I stared through the window, watching the sun dip. “I don’t know, John. I never wanted them to win.” I looked at my friend. “Their goal was to break us. I wasn’t going to let that happen.”
“You think me weak?” John’s chin jutted forward; he looked more like his old self in that moment.
“No. I think you wronged. I wish…” I looked away. “I wish you had come to me. Or that—”
“It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d stayed, Gabriel.” John’s voice was matter of fact and even more reflective. “Did you read Octavia’s journal? The parts where we overlap?”
“Some.”
“Then you will know that it didn’t matter. It would have been worse had you still been there, though I said differently earlier. You couldn’t have saved me. I stopped blaming you during the day long ago.” He gave a self-deprecating smile. “I sometimes still blame you at night, but we can’t all be perfect.”
“None of us are,” I said quietly. “None of us are.”
We sat in silence, the carriage rolling across Blackened Bridge, swaying over the stones as dusk fell.
I rapped the trap. “Is the inquisitor still following?”
“No, Master Noble. He stopped doing so ten minutes back and rode ahead. Haven’t seen him since.”
I nodded and stretched suddenly tight fingers.
“Where are we going?” John asked, his head tipped back, eyes closed. “Montranc? Viogate? Straight to my estate in order to sever it?”
I shook my head slowly, watching him. “Greville Street. Steelcrest and Dresden will take care of the rest. I’ll make sure of it.”
John’s gaze snapped to mine and held for a long moment.
He nodded. “Yes.” His voice softened. “Thank you, Gabriel.”
His shoulders straightened and he dusted off the knee of his right leg. “Where shall I be going?”
