In this situation, penance requires compliance, and I look up.
“I can see that you’re suddenly feeling very badly about what you did. But I can assure you that whatever it is you’re feeling…” A muscle in his slightly stubbled jaw pulses. “I have felt far worse.AndI hope the weight of your guilt crushes you to the point that it kills you before your thirtieth birthday so I can live the rest of my life in peace without you.”
I swallow discreetly. “Yes, sir.”
The corner of Malachi’s mouth quirks in unprecedented pleasure at my compliant response, his eyes glinting smugly, and he leans forward to kiss my forehead. “Very good. Enjoy the festivities, and Philipp and I will rejoin you and Cordelia at the end of the afternoon.”
He turns me with a hand on my shoulder, and I step away to join Cordelia.
She and I stroll through the market, stopping to speak to the vendors and ask about their offerings. The people of Corwick are very respectful of us, not clamoring and merely greeting us with lit-up smiles and curtseys and bows. Some ask if they can take a photo with us, and we oblige them. It’s all very charming, not overwhelming in the least, but I feel dead inside.
A florist has hands us both small, yet stunning bouquets of red and white roses with holly leaves and pine sprigs, and after thanking him, we continue our stroll.
“I don’t think you’re all bad, Isla,” Cordelia says out of nowhere as we pause in front of a glassblowing demonstration.
I glance at her. “I beg your pardon.”
“When your engagement was announced, Philipp explained to me your history with Malachi,” she clarifies, casting a brief, pleasant glance at the glassblower. “I disagree that one mistake should overshadow the goodness of the relationship you’ve had with the family your whole life.”
Intrigue widens my eyes at her. “Philipp told you what happened?”
She smiles and flits her fingers at a few people waving on the other side of the demonstration. “Yes, he needed to make sure I understood who you are.”
I step intimately close to her and lower my voice. “What did he say I did?”
She cuts a glance at me before waving again, and then turns her face all the way toward mine to whisper, “Just that you cheated on Malachi while you were both in college.”She hitches one shoulder and pulls slightly away. “You were young. It was college. It happens sometimes. Especially if you’ve only ever been with one person.”
Bile creeps up into my throat.
You cheated on Malachi while you were in college.
There isa lotmissing from my time in college. Fora lotof different reasons.
Terrible things happened to me, and I did terrible things. Things that I don’t even remember, and that only my parents know about, but even their knowledge of those things is someone else’s hearsay.
And that’s when I know for sure that Malachi has been telling the truth this whole time, and that I did actually do the unthinkable.
I could vomit right here in the middle of the cheery, chipper Christmas festival.
“Anyway, I don’t think it’s that awful,” Cordelia goes on as she offers one last wave before nudging us on to the next group of vendors. “The two of them are way too critical. They have too much pride.” Shetskslightly and then chortles. “Male ego. Their precious honor hinges explicitly on loyalty, and I’m sure it’s quite a blow iftheir womandares make a purely human mistake.”
I lower my voice again and incline my face to her ear. “Have you ever cheated on someone?”
“No,” she says simply, lifting one shoulder again. “But people make mistakes in relationships. I don’t think it makes you a horrible human being. I certainly don’t think it’s fair for both of them to constantly crucify you for it more than ten years after the fact.”
It does little to make me feel any better, but I appreciate the fact that Cordelia isn’t an asshole like the rest of them as I initially suspected.
“Thank you for saying so, Cordelia,” I say with a sigh as we pause in front of a wreath maker’s tent. “I honestly don’t—”
A hand clamps around my arm, jerking me backward with such sudden force that my heart leaps into my throat. It spins me around, and I’m suddenly face-to-face with Malachi.
“Walk away immediately,” he snarls under his breath, then speaks perfectly pleasantly over his shoulder to Cordelia. “Philipp will be along shortly. We’ll see you at the Christmas Eve dinner.”
Malachi is all but sprinting away from the market, dragging me with him behind three security people who force the crowd to part like the Red Sea. It all happens so fast that it barely registers, and we’re suddenly being ushered into a black armored car. The door is slammed shut, and the driver pulls away from the curb.
Malachi’s phone rings, and he whips it out of his pocket. “We’re in the car. Call me from a secure line in one hour.”
He shoves it back into his pocket as he wrenches his head around to stare out the window intently, as though looking for something.
