“But—”
Her brother held up a bruised hand. “I’ve thought a lot about this, particularly since I married Ivy. She’s challenged me on a great many things that, I suppose, I took for granted. Our mother had learned to deeply fear men in her short time on this earth. She might have loved me, but I feel certain she was far more concerned that I might turn out to be the kind of man our father is.”
He fixed that gaze of his on Leontina—the one that was so much like hers. Like their mother’s, come to that. And when she didn’t protest, he continued. “If it feels to you that she was giving you less attention, I’ll point out to you that you’re the one she left her words to. Not me. Sheexpectedyou to be strong, like she was and then some. She wasn’tworriedabout what sort of person you’d become, because look at you. You’re the one who decamped in the night, leaving the old man reeling. If I’d managed that years ago, who knows who I’d be now?”
“I think,” Leontina managed to say, “that you could only ever be you, Giaco.”
He shook his head, something like a smile on his face. “How is it that you’ve managed to hide your true face—even from me—for all these years?”
“It’s the same face.” She looked at him, then looked back at the rows of weapons. Again, they seemed to be a part of this conversation. Because there were always all sorts of weapons at hand, in any situation. It only took some looking. “I just found that if you dress a certain way, and shuffle about, no one looks at your face. Not even your family.”
“I have never pretended to be anything but a shallow creature,” Giaco said after a moment, perhaps thinking about the times he, too, had not paid attention to his sister as she crept on by. “But it seems to me that you and I are two sides of the same coin, Leontina. I drew fire, because I thought it was keeping you safe. And you participated in that too, by keeping yourself safe by any means you could. Both of us did what was necessary to protect ourselves from that man according to her wishes, Leontina. Because, believe me, that’s what she wanted.”
Leontina felt herself trembling, as if something was erupting from deep within her. It felt as if her mother was closer than she’d ever been before, moreheretonight than a half-imagined glimpse out of the corner of her eye.
She loved it so fiercely that she was terrified that if she tried to hold on to it this would all slip away. This moment. These revelations. An actual, adult conversation with Giaco at last. And if it all went back to how it was, then what would become of her?
There was no way she could handle it. Or allow it.
Beside her, Giaco shifted. “I hope you know that I was never going to let him sell you off to one of those idiots,” he said then, in a fierce rush. “You didn’t need to worry. Much less have what I presume were deeply salacious nights with a man who should have known better than to seduce an innocent, sheltered girl.”
And Leontina wanted desperately to hold on to her mother. Because if she was to believe what Giaco was saying, and God knew she wanted to, her mother had been with her all along. If their mother hadn’thatedher—and why had she believed her father in that when she knew what a liar he was?—but had simply expected her to carry on the mantle that she’d needed to set down, well. She could do that. She had done it.
But she couldn’t allow Giaco’s fantasy about what had happened between her and Pau to stand. Not only because he was wrong.
His being wrong didn’t matter, really, but it was possible this might be her only opportunity to set the record straight. To tell someone the truth about what had happened. Maybe to unburden herself, sure. But maybe also because she needed to not keep it all inside her any longer.
And no matter what, on this night of truths, this one seemed crucial to share.
“He did not seduce me, Giaco,” she said, as clearly and crisply as she could. “I seduced him.”
When Giaco could not seem to control his face, and the skepticism that clearly took him over, she tilted her head to one side. Then she looked at him without a single shred of patience remaining.
“Excuse me. I amyoursister, after all. Did you think you were the only Tavian capable of producing a few wiles at your convenience? You are not.” She shook her head at him. “Just becauseyounever saw my true face doesn’t mean that no one else ever has.”
She had the great satisfaction, then, of watching her brother take that on in real time. He did not accept it easily.
Good, she thought, thinking of Pau’s bruised face.
And while he was processing the idea of his baby sister as a kind of femme fatale who could potentially match his energy in some way—something so delightful to contemplate that she thought she would have to return to that, later, for her own entertainment—she pushed on to the really critical bit of the whole thing.
“And the seduction was easy,” she said. “As I’m sure you know. From your own voluminous experiences, of course.”
Her brother winced. “I beg of you, do not feel the need to go into the details,” Giaco muttered and raked his hands through his hair.
This, too, was validating—but she pushed on.
“What’s a whole lot harder,” Leontina continued, and she had toorder herselfto keep going, “since we’re sitting here baring ourselves to the unflinching light of honesty on this historic night, is that I’m in love with him.”
She laughed after she said it, because she’d never thought that she’d say such a thing out loud. It was exposing. It was terrifying. It might open her up to scorn, ridicule. Possibly worse things she hadn’t imagined yet.
And also because it hurt. Because it all hurt.
She looked at her brother, almost helplessly. “It’s terrible, Giaco, but there it is.”
And for a moment, Giaco only stared at her. He looked something like alarmed.
Then, far more horrifying, he moved closer to put his arm around her and pulled her into another hug.
