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No, that had been poor Tekla, who told them exactly where the master suite was so they’d release Karla. They threatened all kinds of harm on the girls before locking them into a cupboard on the first floor.

“I didn’t think I’d done any harm,” Tekla said when she saw me and my injuries. “I knew the master wasn’t sleeping there. I thought they’d find only an empty room. I didn’t think for a moment I was putting you in danger, Your Grace. I’m so terribly sorry.” I throw my arms around her as she cries, reassuring her that I was perfectly fine and all was well now.

I can’t help but be bitter toward the pain Eryx put my staff through. Damasus’s broken nose, Tekla’s and Karla’s terror, Mrs. Lagos’s white face when she saw the destruction done to the house, Kyros’s alarm when he couldn’t find Nico right away during the intruders’ attack.

Eryx needs to stop thinking he can handle everything alone.

Medora changes my bandages for me each day. The front door to the manor is replaced. The master suite smells of cleaning chemicals. My skin is healing.

We can patch up plaster. Replace broken wood, pound out the dents to the brass. But wounds to the soul cannot be fixed so readily.

I haven’t seen Eryx once since the attack. I don’t even know if he’s still at the estate.

We keep doing this to each other: offending the other and then avoiding. It has to stop. We should just be speaking to one another. Or yelling it out. I need to stop letting him get to me.

The doctor returns to the manor to check up on everyone. He removes my stitches before seeing to Damasus. I observe the exchange, wanting to ensure everyone is in peak condition. When the doctor is finished, he heads to the study, likely to collect his pay from Eryx.

They chat for some time before the man leaves, and I stare at the closed door.

It’s time to engage Eryx again. I cannot let this continue. I must be so close to the truth. If I can get the rest of it, we can be done with this whole charade. His secret consumes me. I feel as if I could just get my hands on the full truth, then my next move will become clear. Everything will make sense then.

When I let myself inside, Eryx is seated at the grand desk with his head in his hands while Dyson sits sprawled over the arms of a large chair in the corner and Argus stands with his arms crossed over his chest.

Three sets of eyes look up.

“May I have a moment alone with you?” I ask, staring down the pretend duke.

He looks… disappointed somehow, but he says, “Yes, of course.”

I walk to the center of the room, then glance back and forth between the other two occupants.

Argus rolls his eyes before plucking Dyson out of the chair and marching him out of the room.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Dyson says before the door shuts.

I turn to Eryx. “You told them?”

He rubs a hand along his brow. “Dyson is as tactful as ever.”

“Bragging about your conquest?” I ask, my voice bitter.

He swallows. “Hardly. I needed advice. I…”

“You what?”

His eyes narrow. “I don’t know anything where you are concerned.”

Oh, but he wants to. I can see it. I just need to get him to open up.

I go right for the jugular. Looking pointedly at my exposed, healing arm, I say, “You have brought fear and pain to this household, and it’s time you stopped.”

He swallows. “How do you propose I do that?”

“You can start by telling me everything. No more secrets. No more lies. No more surprises. Just let me help you.”

“I don’t know how,” he says. “I’ve carried on this way for so long.”

“Well, enough is enough. You take some time to think of everything you need to share with me and how you’ll share it. In the meantime, I’m going to make arrangements for your next lesson.”