Nothing, Damien wanted to say.Nothing.It wasn’t me.Wasn’t my fault. But none of those words came out, for therewas an ache in his throat so hot and so fierce he could not squeeze the words around it.
You did this. His father’s voice.
‘No,’ said Damien. ‘No. No!’
Yes, his father said, his rage like a cresting wave, breaking over Damien, spittle flying from his mouth now as he shouted: ‘Youkilled her.You– with thisinsolenceof yours.’
‘My lord, please—’ Nanny’s pleading voice. ‘It’s not the child’s fault.’
And Damien could feel it. Could feel where it had all begun. That untethered feeling, as though he had been anchored to the ground with only a piece of string, and now that had snapped and he was floating, up and away, further and further.
‘Get out of my sight, boy. Get out!’
His father’s voice was a roar.
Chapter Fifty-Six
For a long moment he simply sat there, the juddering that had begun in his hands spreading until his whole body was quivering, until his teeth were chattering as though a chill wind had gusted through the closed window.
‘Damien?’
Ava kept her voice low, kept it quiet, but when he didn’t respond she tried again.
‘Damien.’
Now he looked at her, his eyes like a moonless night, one tear slipping in a wet line down his cheek.
‘Shewasthere,’ he said quietly. ‘I remember now. I’d heard her voice, when I was underwater. And I found …’ He closed his eyes, breathing shallowly through pale lips. ‘She must’ve seen me in the water, and—’
‘Damien …’ She smoothed her thumb back and forth over the back of his hand. ‘You were a child. It was an accident.’
‘I told myself she wasn’t there …’ His brow creased. ‘I told myself I was alone that day, on the lake. I told that story so often that I started to believe it, Ava. And then, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember it. Couldn’t remember anything, and my father … he told me I’d killed her. That itwasmy fault– and I believed him. I thought I was a monster.’ His voice was thin now. Taut. ‘Perhaps he was right after all.’
‘You were achild, Damien,’ she clasped his hand all the tighter. ‘It was anaccident.’
‘But she went into the water because ofme.’
‘She went in because she loved you, Damien. Because you were her son. Because you were in trouble – and she wanted to help you.’
‘Yes, but if I hadn’t taken the boat—’
She reached for him, a palm cupping his cheek. He was trembling still, his breath ragged. ‘Look at me, Damien.’
His green eyes lifted slowly, reluctantly, and in them she saw not the fear of a man, but the fear of a child: raw, and wordless.
‘You cannot blame yourself for making a poor decision at an age when all we do is make poor decisions. And you cannot blame your mother for loving you, for wanting to help you. It was just … it was an accident. It was a horrible accident.’
He looked at her for a long moment, and some of the glassiness in his gaze began to steady a little. ‘She loved me,’ he said, his voice quiet.
‘She loves you still, Damien.’ She felt her own throat growing tight then, felt tears welling in her own eyes. ‘Because they’re never really gone, the ones we love. Even if we can’t see them anymore, can’t reach for them – they’re always with us. They livehere.’
She pressed her hand to his heart, her lips trembling, and tried tofeelthose words. Tried to feel her mother – and it was like a thread of light seeping from something within her – something she’d kept long shut. She could feel her warmth, could feel her love – and she didn’t need her things in her dressing room. Didn’t need her paintings upon the wall. For she was here – as constant as the beating of her own heart.
Damien reached up, catching a tear with the pad of his thumb. ‘It followed me,’ he said, softly. ‘It hunted me. The thought of it. And now …’ He huffed a breath through his teeth, pushing his dark hair away from his forehead, his spectacles catching in the last of the day’s light as he pressed a hand to his heart. ‘But now I know. And it feels …’ His gaze grazed her, lip curling upwards just a little, his fingers hooking around hers.
‘Now at least I can see it. I can try and understand it. As the man I am now – and not the child I was then.’
‘And you won’t go to New York?’ she said. ‘You won’t run?’
