I breathe in the dark at the top of the stairs.
Because I know my brother. I know every tell he has, every way he moves when he's carrying something heavy, and I have known since the moment William's words landed, and Reilan'shands pressed flat to his legs, that I am not going to get the answer I'm hoping for.
I already know what he's going to tell me.
I've been moving fast enough to keep from looking at it clearly, and I've run out of hallway.
I push off the wall.
The light under Reilan's door is still on. I can see it at the end of the corridor, that thin yellow line on the floor. He's awake. He's waiting.
I walk toward it.
I knock twice.
There's a pause, like he's deciding whether to answer. Then his voice, low and careful. "Come in."
He's sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees. He's still in the same clothes, tie gone, shirt collar open. He looks up when I walk in, and whatever he sees in my face makes him go very still again.
I close the door. I lean back against it.
The room is small. A single lamp on the nightstand was casting a yellow light across his face. He looks older than he did this morning. Something has settled into the lines around his mouth, something that wasn't there before tonight.
He looks at me for a moment. Then he nods, once, and opens his mouth.
"Start from the beginning," I say. "And don't leave anything out."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Aoife
HE'S STILL AWAKE.
The light under the door told me that. I stand in the corridor for a moment before I knock, two sharp raps, and then his voice comes through—low, careful, the voice of a man who's been sitting in the dark waiting for exactly this.
"Come in."
He's on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees. Tie gone, shirt collar open, still in the same clothes from dinner. He looks up when I walk in, and whatever he reads in my face makes him go very still.
I close the door. I lean back against it.
"Tell me it wasn't you."
He holds my gaze. "It wasn't me."
He says it without hesitating. That's the first thing I notice. Not a long pause, not the tell I've been reading on him since he was twenty-three and lying to our father about where he'd been. Just the words, clean and direct, and his eyes steady on mine.
It almost works.
"Reilan."
"I don't know what you think you know, but I didn't—"
"Stop." I push off the door. "Don't do that. Don't treat me like I'm one of Dad's lieutenants you can manage with a straight face and a calm voice. I've known you my whole life."
He stands up. "Then you should know I wouldn't do this."
"I know what I saw in that dining room."
