CHAPTER 35
TOVEN’S ARM TIGHTENED AROUND HER WAIST, and Briony reminded herself to breathe.
“Lag,” Toven greeted in a stilted voice. “Back from Southern Camly so soon?”
“Just today.” His gaze skated over her chest, her waist, her legs. “I’d heard you’d been letting her out of her cage. Had to come see for myself.”
There was a pounding in her blood, but she focused on holding her head high, meeting his eyes.
“And now you’ve seen,” Toven replied curtly. “If you’ll excuse us—”
“Not sharing her, either, I’ve heard,” Reighven said, stepping subtly to the left, blocking the narrow path around him. “What a shame that is.” He took a small step forward, cocking his head. His eyes hadn’t left her once. “With me, you would have been treated like the princess of Biltmore once again.
The grandest prize, presented and polished.”
A chill passed along her shoulders, but she didn’t move a muscle. Toven shifted, his shoulder passing into her sight line as he put himself in front of her.
“I think she got the better deal, Lag,” Toven lilted, and she could hear the nasty smirk in his voice, so reminiscent of their school days.
Reighven sneered and stepped into him, nose-to-nose. “Your daddy’s not
here, Hearst. I’d be very careful what you say to me.”
“Oh, I have nothing to say to you at all. We have a binding agreement,”
Toven said, his voice low. “Now kindly step away from me and my heartspring. I’ll only ask you once.”
“You’ve been keeping her locked away for far too long. Careful,” he warned. “Or someone might figure out how to pick the lock.”
Toven’s left arm was still twisted behind him, squeezing her wrist so hard that she knew it would bruise. He breathed a humorless laugh and slapped Reighven’s upper arm.
“Good to see you, Lag. I’ll give my father your regards.”
With a sharp tug, he pulled her around him, passing Reighven on the right with a shove to his shoulder. Briony didn’t look back, only focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
She tried to find a lake with still waters in her mind, but seeing Reighven again had rattled her. Once they were up the stairs, she tugged on Toven, asking him to pause without saying a word.
Toven looked up and down the arcade while Briony took two deep breaths
in.
She nodded, and they continued.
Toven led her to the room where they’d had dinner two weeks ago. The same Bomardi guard stood at the doorway and checked Toven’s ring for entry.
Boisterous laughter and shouting assaulted her ears, and when they entered, the room cheered, getting to their feet in their imitation of chivalry.
Toven herded her to the head of the table, and Briony took her position behind Toven’s chair. She found Cecily behind Collin, Octavia behind Lorne, and Jellica behind Canning. And when the strawberry-blonde took her place behind Liam as he sat, Briony realized the chair to Toven’s left was empty.
Finn wasn’t here, just as Toven had planned. She wondered what the excuse was for it.
As soon as the men were seated, the women stepped forward for the wine bottles. Briony followed, reaching beyond Toven’s shoulder and pouring wine into his glass.
They repeated their toast—“To Mistress Mallow. May she reign forevermore”—and Briony watched as seven men drank deeply to Mallow’s honor. There was less food on the table than two weeks ago. No opulent pig roast or decadent side dishes. As the men settled back into conversation, the strawberry-blonde and two other women started moving around with trays, serving light hors d’oeuvres and cheese.
Without dinner in the way, it didn’t take long for the first woman to drop into a lap—a giggly waif in a silver collar who draped herself over Kleve without a fuss. As if he’d been waiting for the cue all evening, Collin directed Cecily to his lap, his arms wrapping around her stomach and his face inhaling deeply at her neck as she grimaced.
Briony was listening to the conversations and watching the men closely, so she saw the exact moment Canning pulled a small box out of his robes.
“What do we say, gentlemen,” he called out over the noise. “Shall we lose some gold tonight?”
The young men laughed and jeered, ribbing one another about who had won and lost last time. Canning’s long fingers opened the box and plucked out a deck of cards and three dice. He began shuffling the deck as some men groaned about the holes in their pockets, and others rubbed their greedy hands together in glee.
Briony had seen the guards at Biltmore play this game before. They’d agreed to teach Rory but had balked at the idea of the princess playing cards with them. Her rudimentary understanding was that it was similar to poker, but without numbered cards.
Lorne started divvying the chips, and the cards slid across the table with a magical push as Canning dealt them. She looked up and realized that over half of the women were otherwise occupied. Some sat in laps or draped over the shoulders of their “dates.” The other half refilled glasses and offered snacks. Only Briony was left standing at attention.
She stepped forward as Toven plucked up his cards. Grabbing the decanter of wine, she refilled his almost full glass to look busy, and as he rearranged his cards, she brushed her fingers over the back of his collar, near
the base of his skull, as Larissa had taught her. “Do you have a good hand?” she murmured, doing her best to imitate Larissa’s purr.
He went very still. “Excellent,” he said with a confident flick of his eyes to meet Canning’s.
Canning smirked, then turned his gaze on her. “How are those heels tonight, Rosewood?” His gaze ran over her. “If you need to sit, you know my lap’s always free.”
Before she could craft a response, Toven’s hand was on her hip, pulling her downward without even looking up from his cards. The men laughed.
She landed across both his legs, the right side of her chest pressing against his left. With how short and tight her dress was, she was forced to shift herself until her legs crossed, her arm slung behind Toven’s shoulder. Toven provided no assistance.
Lorne started by rolling the dice, grinning down at the result. The glyphs on the sides were different than on the dice she’d seen the guards play with, so she gave up trying to summon the little she remembered. Canning called for wagers.
“Let’s make it good this time, gentlemen.” He nodded at Kleve. “You
first.”
“I have the names of two defectors.”
Canning rolled his eyes. “That’s terribly dull, Kleve.”
“Well, that’s what I have,” Kleve grumbled.
“Then think of something better. I’m not risking what I know for something my grandmother could have told me.”
He turned his eyes on Lorne, who cleared his throat. “I have news on Starksen.”
“I’ll take that,” Canning said. “I’ll raise you a sighting of Punt.”
Briony’s mouth felt dry, and she resisted the urge to lean forward. They were wagering secrets instead of gold—sensitive topics about the war, the outside world.
She chanced a look around the table and found the strawberry-blonde meeting eyes with another Barlowe Girl before quickly glancing away and reaching for a slice of cheese off Liam’s plate.
“Intriguing, Canning. Who’s your source?” said Toven.
“Well, you’ll have to beat my hand to find out, won’t you?”
“Collin?” Lorne asked. “Are you in?”
But Collin was nuzzling into Cecily’s neck, content to fold.
“I have news on Mallow’s dragon. Spotted near the Tampet Mountains yesterday,” said the man whose name Briony didn’t know.
Toven scoffed. “What could possibly be interesting about the location of Mallow’s dragon?”
“You’ll have to beat my hand to find out.”
“Toven?” Canning asked. “Are you in?”
Briony felt every pair of eyes turn to them. She glanced down to Toven’s hand, unable to tell if what he had was sufficient to win. He plucked a card from the middle and replaced it on the end.
“I’m in.” He tilted his head, and Briony felt his hair tickle her neck.
“Anyone interested to know who it was that skipped through the boundary at Javis last month?”
A charge pulsed through the table. Canning lifted a brow; Lorne leaned closer. Someone set down his glass with a clink. Liam, on the other hand, stiffened.
“That’s classified,” he hissed from their left. “You can’t give away that kind of information.”
“I’m not giving it away,” Toven drawled. “I’m planning to win my hand, thank you very much.” He took a leisurely sip from his wineglass. “And you, Liam? Do you have anything of value?”
Liam sat up straight in his chair, jostling the arms of the strawberry- blonde hanging off his shoulders. “I can tell you which major government official plans to pay Biltmore a visit next month,” he said.
“Tremelo already said he’d be back—”
“No,” Liam snapped. He sneered at the interruption. “Not Tremelo.”
A pause as the young men considered.
“Well, you have my interest,” Canning said with a grin. “Shall we play, boys?”
Canning whispered into Jellica’s ear, and with some reluctance, Jellica
leaned forward and chose a card from the pile in front of him.
“High suit is...” Canning turned over the card Jellica chose, and his face split into a smile. His eyes slid to Briony. “Roses.”
The men chuckled as Canning flipped the card onto the table. It had an ornate rose in the center.
“Wild card is...” Canning took the next card from Jellica’s hand and barked out a laugh. “The Rose in Chains.” His eyes glittered as he stared across the table at Toven and Briony. “Well, if that isn’t just the perfect thing.”
Toven was still as stone as the men laughed, making jokes about not betting against Toven this round—“The odds are with him!”
Briony barely understood the game, but she could understand the insinuation.
They started then. Briony watched cards exchange hands, watched the dice roll, watched the quick shuffling as the men laughed and drank. She still couldn’t figure out how the game was played, but she was far more invested in the conversation. One by one, the men lost, spilling their secrets and, afterward, their gold. By the time they were down to their last few wine bottles, only Toven, Canning, and Liam had kept their secrets.
Lorne’s news on Starksen—that Mallow had lost several new recruits during a battle near the port—had helped Briony puzzle together that Starksen was publicly against Mallow.
Another two hands, and she found out the name of a suspected traitor in General Tremelo’s cabinet.
Canning finally lost his hand to a round of jeers. “All right,” he said, tossing back his drink. “That bitch who lost an arm—what’s-her-name.”
“Velicity Punt,” Jellica said softly, and then immediately flushed red and stared down at her lap.
Canning seemed entertained more than anything. “Yes, thank you, Jellica,” he said patronizingly. “Velicity Punt was spotted in the north at a closed-down apothecary last week.”
Briony’s mind snapped in millions of directions. Now that she knew the tattoo was created with an elixir, it was possible that Velicity, as one of the
only escapees, was determined to find the ingredients for the antidote. But it could be anything. If Velicity was on the run with Sammy, as she’d seen in the papers, they’d need plenty of supplies.
Liam folded next, but he didn’t seem terribly put out when he smugly announced that Biltmore would be hosting the rest of Minister Bagis’s cabinet.
Toven didn’t lose, keeping his secret of who had escaped at Javis. Briony shoved aside her irritation that he hadn’t told her before. She’d take it up with him later, but now was not the time.
By the end of the next round, Lorne, having lost his gold and secrets several rounds before, began kissing Octavia’s neck as he listened to the game, only piping in every now and then. Collin was doing something similar, only it seemed he had completely disregarded the game to focus on sloppily kissing Cecily’s mouth.
It was Kleve’s turn to throw the dice. The Barlowe Girl in his lap giggled when he offered her the deck of cards.
Briony looked away from the scene as Liam called out the results of the roll. They played their first hand, exchanging chips and cards. And when it was time to bet their information, Liam offered another visitor to Biltmore in the next month.
“Don’t waste our time with that,” Toven drawled. “I want to know what you were researching for your father in my library.” Liam opened his mouth.
“And don’t feed me any shit about the portal boundary line,” Toven continued, cutting over him. “I saw you lurking in the other sections.”
A stillness swept over the table. Liam flushed at being put on the spot, and clearly not in a way he enjoyed.
“I’ll take that bet,” Canning said with a glint in his eye. “Especially since Liam is panicking.”
The table chuckled. The strawberry-blonde cooed into Liam’s ear and rubbed his shoulders as he scowled. Briony’s pulse spiked, feeding off the intrigue, and she quickly looked down at the table to hide her eagerness.
Liam scowled, drumming his fingers on the table. “Well, I’m only in if Toven tells us where Daddy Hearst has been.”
Toven’s ribs expanded against hers, and the corner of his mouth lifted. He made quite a show of looking down at his cards, weighing the options.
“What do you think, Rosewood?” he lilted. “Think my cards are good enough?”
She blinked at his hand, not sure how to answer, but knowing it didn’t matter. He was only buying time. She ran her fingers over the fine hair at the back of his neck, right over the place where she’d once sewed his skin together, and watched his skin prickle.
Briony plucked a card from the middle of Toven’s hand and replaced it on the end. She leaned closer and loudly whispered, “I think Liam’s about to spill everything.”
The men burst into laughter—more raucous than the quip warranted. It wasn’t terribly witty, but perhaps they were amused that it was said by her.
That she was playing their game.
“Now the game can start!” Canning yelled over the din. “I wondered when you’d show up, Rosewood!”
Liam won his hand, allowed to keep his secrets for a bit longer. Toven spread his cards on the table, and Briony inferred from the Rose that he had won as well.
Her heart was pounding in her chest as she decided to try something else to celebrate his win. Pressing her forehead to his temple and painting on a coy smile, Briony tilted her face up, reaching for his mouth with hers.
The barest brush of her bottom lip across the corner of his mouth— And Toven jerked his face back, the smallest movement of his neck, like he’d dodged the swing of a sword.
She froze, feeling his entire body seize up, his ribs no longer moving against hers.
Embarrassment flooded her chest and neck, working its way to her cheeks. She’d tried to kiss him, and he’d rejected her—and more important, flinched in front of watchful eyes. She didn’t dare look at him, staring at her lap as her face burned. He continued shuffling his new hand as if nothing had happened.
Soon enough, her embarrassment gave way to a boiling fury. He was
going to jeopardize them. He couldn’t accept a kiss from his heartspring?
What did that say?
Had anyone seen?
The sound in the room returned to her slowly as she lifted her head. The men were chatting and passing cards. No eyes were on them, but there was something malicious about the way Canning Trow grinned at the table, his teeth cutting into his lip.
Toven’s ribs moved again, and he audibly swallowed. Briony stiffened at the reminder that he was there.
They needed to talk. They needed a discussion about what their behavior was to consist of. He’d condescended at her ability to playact last time, and then proceeded to sabotage her once she’d actually tried to play the game.
She breathed deeply; she couldn’t show how she felt with so many watchful
eyes in the room.
“Your turn, Hearst.”
Kleve slid the cards over to Toven, and his arm extended to reach for them.
“You gonna let her wish you luck?” Lorne teased.
Toven held the deck in front of her. She pushed her embarrassment down and slipped one card from the stack, flipping it over for the table.
“The Virgin and the Wolf,” Liam read for the table.
Now, that one she had heard of. It was an old fairy story, with a wolf that could smell a virgin’s blood.
The men were just offering their secrets as she relaxed back into Toven’s hand.
“I have something with potential now that we’re in the final round,”
Canning said with a smirk. His eyes locked on hers as he said, “I happen to know the location of one Cordelia Hardstark.”
A cold wave of dread crashed through her. And she knew she hadn’t been able to temper her expression. Canning’s eyes gleamed. She felt the hand on her back tense as well.
“And how would you know that?” Liam sneered.
Canning shrugged, still smirking. “My elixir is no longer available at
Biltmore. I have to make house calls these days. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve learned in exchange for a small discount.”
Briony’s heart thrummed. Cordelia wasn’t at Cohle’s estate any longer?
And Canning knew where she was being kept?
“But it is a huge secret, you know,” Canning said with a pout. “I feel like we should up the ante if I’m going to reveal this.”
Canning looked directly at Toven. Toven responded in a level voice, “I can reveal no more than the country my father is in, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t care to know that. Truly.” Canning shrugged, his eyes falling on Briony again. She had the sinking sensation that he was playing with them, like a cat batting a mouse. “But I will wager that secret against a kiss from the golden heartspring.”
Briony held her breath. Toven’s jaw clicked, and the weight in her stomach dropped. He would decline. And then she would have no idea what had happened to Cordelia.
Her lips parted before Toven could take a breath. “One measly kiss?” She lifted a brow imitating the man beneath her and said, “That’s an easy bet to take. Hardly fair for you, though.”
Canning winked at her. “You sell yourself short, Rosewood. Perhaps that’s just how madly I desire you.”
Toven tensed, about to jump in, about to end this.
“How could Master Toven refuse?” she quickly replied. “It costs him nothing if he loses.”
The hand on her back lifted, and she heard the arm of the chair creak under the strain of a hand squeezing it.
The young men were silent, watching the unspoken duel between the two heads of the table. But the match was won, and Toven knew it. The anger radiated off him even as he said, “Of course. An excellent wager.”
All eyes turned to the cards as Toven and Canning played, pulling new hands and rolling the dice. She judged Toven’s success off Liam, who had no poker face. The more disappointed he looked, the better Toven was doing.
When they both finally laid out their cards, the entire table released a breath. Briony waited.
“Fuck,” Lorne whispered, running a hand through his hair.
“It’s a draw, sweetheart,” Canning said to her from across the table, his lips twisted in an arrogant smile. “Such a shame. I would have liked to have tasted you just once.” He made a show of licking his lips at her as the men laughed and Toven stoically cleaned up his cards. Canning leaned closer, schooling his features in a mock pout. “And I’m sure you desperately wanted to know about your dear friend. Such a pity.”
Canning tapped his chin, as if deep in thought.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said, shifting Jellica off his lap. “I’ll still reveal my secret if you give me that kiss. Good and proper, now.”
She felt her pulse in her fingertips. Then Toven scoffed and plucked up his wineglass, draining the contents and preparing to excuse them from the room.
She thought of Cordelia withering away in a dark castle. Her blue eyes dim, and her magic gone.
Briony stood swiftly. The room was still. They watched her as she moved to Canning, who was smirking at her with hungry eyes. She didn’t spare a glance at Toven as she sat in Canning’s lap and pulled his neck down to kiss him squarely on the mouth.
The table erupted in cheers and groans. She felt Canning smile against her lips before returning her kiss with a vengeance, his mouth cold and rubbery against hers. She was just pulling back when his hand slipped into her hair, and his other dropped to her thigh, rubbing the skin. His lips moved under hers, his hand gripping her curls to hold her still, and then his tongue was against her mouth, pressing forward to get inside.
He’d barely managed it when she pushed back with all her might, breaking free of him and stumbling to her feet. The sound rushed back to the room as Canning grinned up at her, his thumb brushing over his lips. The men pounded the table and howled.
“Your secret, Trow?” Briony hissed under the din, staring down at him, resisting the urge to wipe her mouth.
Canning raised his hand to quiet the room, his teeth shining proudly.
“Cordelia is moved quite frequently. She was at the Locklin estate last week,
the Seat’s Castle before that. She may not have magic anymore, but she certainly has some good fight left in her.”
Briony felt the blood drain from her face. There was noise somewhere in the room, but she couldn’t decipher the sounds.
The Seat’s Castle and the Locklin estate. Moira Locklin was fifth in line to the Seat, but Briony had no idea where the Locklin estate was.
She tried to find the voice to ask, but her wrist was taken, there was an arm around her back, and then Toven was leading her out of the room.
Pushing her, really. The game was over. Several others followed them out, passing the guard, moving down the stairwell.
Toven was silent. His hand on her hip was rigid as he guided her through the door, but she couldn’t spare his temper a passing thought. Her mind was spinning with all the information she’d learned and the images her imagination conjured of Cordelia hanging on by a thread, bleeding on some castle floor. She walked the corridor in a daze, shoving her memories of Cordelia back into a closed book on the shelf, where she belonged.
Her lips still felt strange and dry from Canning’s, and her dress felt too tight.
Toven steered her outside and toward the sound of the crowd. Around another corner, Ilana waited with a tray of drinks. Briony snapped out of her exhaustion. She was going into the arena again. She needed her wits about her.
They ended up in the stands this week. Briony and Toven sat on a bench, and the strawberry-blond woman dropped down next to Toven, Liam on her other side. Briony eyed her as she smiled at them.
Toven rested his arm on the bench behind Briony’s opposite hip, and she did her best to cross her legs in her short dress. She was just starting to dissociate from the events of the evening when she heard a voice with thick vowels to her right.
“Is it true your heartspring used to be a princess?”
Briony and Toven looked at the woman with strawberry-blond hair together. The same woman who’d lived at Claremore for months with her, tending to the linens of said princess.
“You’re not supposed to talk to her,” Liam said lazily from the other side of her, sipping a glass of whiskey.
“My apologies,” Strawberry-Blonde said, eyes still hungry on Briony’s face. “I haven’t ever seen a princess before.”
Briony stared at her as Toven mumbled something about her no longer being a princess. Was it not the same girl? It had to be.
The woman propped herself on her knees facing Toven and Briony. “You must be very rich to have purchased such a prize,” she said coquettishly.
“He is, just ask him,” Liam said.
Strawberry-Blonde giggled and flipped her hair. “She’s absolutely beautiful, Master Toven.” The woman shifted a shoulder, and as if by magic, one of her straps fell. “And the way you talked about her two weeks ago.
About her being delicious...”
Toven brought his drink to his lips, tilting his head back to swallow it all.
And the strawberry-blond woman took that opportunity to lick her lips, reach forward for Briony’s neck, and pull her mouth to hers.
Briony’s brows shot up, eyes wide open. The girl’s mouth moved over hers, her hand sliding around Briony’s neck as she pulled their bodies together over Toven’s lap.
Briony couldn’t move with the shock of it. This was...What was this?
The woman brushed her fingers around Briony’s neck and let her tongue slide out, tasting Briony’s lips.
The woman pulled back, smiling brilliantly. “Delicious,” she said. “I’d love to taste more of her sometime, Master Toven.”
Briony’s cheeks flushed bright red as the room came back to her. Liam’s drink had frozen on the way to his lips.
And Toven was wound tight like a spring between them, his eyes hardening.
The woman giggled again and then slid back to sit on Liam’s lap as if she’d never been speaking with them at all.
Briony pressed her fingers to her mouth, trying to make sense of the last minute.
“I think you should let them taste each other, Toven,” Lorne said from one
seat farther on. “What do you say?”
Toven smiled thinly and slid his hand over Briony’s thighs. “I’d say that I’m inspired to do my own ‘tasting.’” He stood from the bench and dragged her up with him. “Gentlemen,” he said in goodbye.
Briony stumbled behind him, turning to watch the woman who used to be her maid kissing Liam’s neck, not sparing her another glance.
“The fuck was that?”
Her eyes snapped up to find Toven scowling at her as they marched through to the exit.
Briony opened her mouth. Then closed it. “She was...very friendly,” she finally landed on.
He took her out into the garden and before she realized that they were at the portal spot, he cut his thumb, made a portal home, and said, “Any other friends you’d like to make tonight, Rosewood?”
He dragged her through as Briony protested.
Once they were in the Hearst drawing room, he dropped her arm and stomped out the door to the stairs. Briony blinked after him for a moment before her anger found her.
“Why did we leave?” she demanded, running after him. “We weren’t finished!”
“I think you had enough fun for one night,” he hissed, starting to climb.
Her mouth fell open at his retreating back. “You’re angry that I kissed Canning? You think that was fun for me?”
He spun back, several stairs above her. “I’m angry that you made me look weak.”
She gaped at him. “Are you joking? Canning only made that bet because you refused to kiss me! You made us both look like idiots!”
His jaw snapped shut. Starting to ascend again, he bit out, “Kissing is too intimate.”
Her temper boiled, bubbling over. Storming after him up the steps, she cried, “Too intimate? Everyone else was kissing! You’ve shown me far more intimate things that we are supposedly doing!”
“So tonight was revenge, then? For intruding on your mind?” He laughed
humorlessly. “You’re going to go around flirting with as many people as possible to get back at me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Briony snapped. “That woman was—” She didn’t know if she should mention the fact that she’d lied about knowing Briony.
“Strange,” she finished, “but Canning was a calculated move. He had information about Cordelia—”
“Oh yes,” he snarled, turning back to her, his face pink. “I do wonder what your old friends would have to say about your method of information gathering, Rosewood.”
She glowered at him. “I wouldn’t have to kiss your disgusting friends if you would just tell me what the fuck is going on!”
His nostrils flared, and he wheeled around to storm up the rest of the staircase. “I answer every fucking question you ask me, Rosewood—”
“The waters forbid you offer anything else!” She sprinted after him in her heels. “Like any kind of game plan for these evenings. Or having the decency to tell me about your stupid No Kissing Rule!”
She followed around the corner as he made for his bedroom.
“You want a rule, Rosewood?” he yelled down the hallway, shoving open his bedroom door. “Don’t throw yourself at my friends!”
“Fuck off, Toven!”
He glared at her and disappeared into his room, slamming the door behind him. She followed suit, marching into her bedroom, fuming with the fire in her blood.
She ripped off her heels, chucking them at the wall connecting their rooms, hoping he heard.
She reached up for her collar, hating it and all it stood for. And it itched.
She screamed in the back of her throat as her fingers tugged at it— Until her fingers brushed something.
She pulled her hands away in shock as a thin scrap of paper fluttered down from her neck.
Briony stared at it, her entire body frozen.
A piece of parchment, torn off the edge of something, no wider than her little finger.
She bent down slowly, thinking of the way the woman with strawberry- blond hair had pulled her forward by the neck—it had caused quite a distraction.
To slide a thin slice of paper beneath the gold.
Briony’s shaking fingers reached for the paper, turning it over. Her breath
hitched.
no dragon, don’t Worry Her heart leapt at its cage.
The handwriting was familiar, but the word that truly took her breath away was “Worry” with a capital W.
That was what she’d called Rory as a child, when she couldn’t pronounce his name.
There really were only four people alive who knew the nickname.
Herself, Cordelia, Didion, and Sammy.
And one of them had written this note to her.
