Was she a fool to even consider saying yes? What could he possibly show her that would make any of this okay?
“Please, Briony.”
Whether it was the “please” or the way he uttered her name in that deep, velvety voice of his, she couldn’t say. Her rational mind screamed at her to say no, to demand that he rip up their engagement contract and take her home. Her body, however, had other ideas because her gloved hand slowly came up. Cass seized it in his before she could change her mind.
“We’re going for a drive.”
Ten minutes later, Cass steered the little black car he’d taken from the palace’s motor pool off the lantern-lined lane of one of Eira’s fashionable districts and onto a narrow street. He kept both hands on the wheel, his eyes focused on the increasingly pitted road and off the woman in the seat next to him.
When Briony had taken his hand, he released the breath he’d been holding. Seeing the look of betrayal on her face when she’d walked into Alaric’s office, watching how cold she’d become as she’d processed what she’d heard, had bothered him more than he cared to admit.
He’d expected Briony to seek him out after she’d been shown to her rooms. But as the minutes had ticked by, he’d found himself pacing, checking his phone and watching the door every time he heard footsteps in the hall. Finally, fed up with his own lack of self-control and a morbid need to find out what Briony was thinking, he’d stalked through the halls to her room.
Yes, he hadn’t been entirely honest with her. Yes, he’d had ulterior motives. But it wasn’t just about revenge. He needed her to understand why. Otherwise, he might as well tear up the contract right now because there was no chance in hell she would walk down the aisle to be wedded to him.
He brought the car to a stop at the edge of an attractive square ringed on all three sides by white town houses with green shutters. The fourth side contained a strip of shops and cafés, from a small bookstore to an art gallery. In the middle lay a park with swings and a few benches. With the light of the lanterns casting a golden glow on the snow, it looked like a postcard. Daxon might have been a selfish bastard, but when it came to image, the man knew how to make an impact.
“Only one row of those town houses is occupied.” He felt more than saw Briony turn to look at him, but he kept his gaze focused on the buildings. “Van Ambrose Tower, the latest high-rise, only has twenty percent of its offices filled.”
He pressed on the gas and kept driving. A few blocks later, the elegant town houses gave way to brick apartments smooshed together. The farther he drove, the more decrepit the buildings became. Gone were the fashionable black lanterns and cobblestoned streets. Here the roads were made of simple asphalt, cracked and in desperate need of repair. The few streetlights that were working cast only weak pockets of light on streets choked with refuse. Underneath one cracked light, a teenager dug in a trash can.
“This is what I want to fix, Briony. I did not lie to you about that. Eira has at least some fashionable districts that cater to the few wealthy families left and the smattering of tourists that come through. But the rest of the country lives like this. The internet, social media—all of it’s kept under lock and key to hide what’s going on beyond the capital. The only reason I knew all these years is because my father still has friends here who managed to get letters out that it continued to get worse after our banishment.”
He turned down another street, one filled with old houses. He parked in front of a two-story brick home that, despite its crumbling exterior and weed-choked yard, still clung to some of its old glamour. Double doors with stained glass guarded the entrance. Even though a rock had been thrown through one long ago, the craftsmanship was still evident.
“I used to stare at the floor in the morning and watch the sun come through the doors,” he said quietly. “There were so many colors.”
In the darkness, Briony shifted.
“For the longest time, I dreamed of coming back here, of raising my own children in the house I grew up in.” He nodded to the other once-elegant homes now sagging under the weight of abandonment and disrepair. “That dream is gone. The houses have been condemned, and the entire street will be razed in the spring.” He turned and speared her with his gaze. He needed her to understand. “But progress can still be made, Briony.”
For a moment, all he could make out was her profile; the slight curve of her nose, the graceful line of her jaw. Even in the dim light of the streetlight, her red hair glowed.
“You lied to me.”
“I did not lie. However,” he interjected as her head snapped about and her lips parted, “I won’t deny that I could have handled things better. I provided only the vaguest details about my family’s history with yours.”
“What happened? What did my father do that made all of this deception worth it?”
Cass’s hands tightened on the wheel. “He broke apart my family.”
For a moment the only sounds were the distant wail of a siren and his own heartbeat. It was the first time he had spoken the words out loud. He didn’t look at Briony, couldn’t if he was going to finally share what had happened.
“My aunt was his mistress. I imagine not long after your mother fled.”
The rest of the story came tumbling out. How his father’s position as assistant to the minister of the treasury had given him access to documents on how King Daxon’s frivolous spending was plunging the country into economic chaos, information he had shared with his sister, Alecine. How Alecine had used that information and other intelligence she’d gathered to threaten Daxon when he’d tried to dismiss her for his next lover. And how Daxon had retaliated by telling Alecine she had twenty-four hours to leave with her family and never return or be thrown in prison for treason.
“He froze our finances. Slandered our name to anyone who would listen and made it impossible for my aunt and father to find work.”
“What about your mother?” Briony asked softly.
“My mother chose to return to her family in France.” His knuckles turned almost as white as the snow on the ground as his fingers wrapped even tighter around the leather. “She knew the struggles we would face with no money and Daxon’s vitriol following us throughout Europe. She preferred the comfort and ease her family could offer.”
“And they didn’t offer to take you in, too?”
“They did. If I agreed to never see my father again.”
Briony’s gasp sounded like a gunshot inside the car.