Page 94 of A Single Thread of Moonlight

“What I want is some sort of justice for your friend. I want people to know what Stefan is, for him to be sent home with his tail between his legs. I want to tell everyone how he behaves towards women, and then perhaps that reputation will protect someone from him in the future. I don’t want him getting his own way, yet again, sailing through life without a care for the pain he leaves in his wake. If you call that revenge then, yes, Nick, I want it. Very much.”

I finished this rather breathless speech and looked up to see a grin spreading across his face.

“You feel that way too?” I asked.

“Yes,” he laughed. “I was worried it made me rather unenlightened.”

“Then we shall be unenlightened together,” I said, settling back against the tree.

“A bloodthirsty pair indeed,” Nick agreed.

“You know,” I mused, “I thought that by taking Stefan away from Agatha, I was getting some kind of revenge on her and Helena, but now I think I’ve actually saved her from a terrible, unhappy marriage.”

“Probably.” Nick shrugged. “Though I think Agatha is a lot more interested in Stefan’s title than she is in him.”

“Agatha is nothing more than a spiteful cat,” I said. “It’s Helena who’s always been the real driving force. Agatha simply follows her lead.”

Nick frowned. “Stefan’s not the only one who deserves justice,” he said. “The way she treated you, forcing you to run away from your own home. It wasn’t right.”

“I spent so long thinking that she killed my father,” I sighed. “I was certain. I based everything on a lie. All the choices I made, every action I took.”

Nick seemed to consider this for a moment. “If your instinct was that strong, if you were that sure, then perhaps you were right,” he said at last. “Everything you’ve learned could be true, and Helena could still have had a hand in your father’s death.”

I frowned. “If she did, it was nothing to do with his drink. Tookes and Kielty both drank from the same flask and they were fine.”

“Maybe she put stronger drink than he was used to in it, or gave him more,” Nick said. “Hoping that would lead to an accident.”

“I suppose,” I agreed, “but it’s not a very sure-fire way to kill someone, is it? You’d just have to wait and cross your fingers that eventually it would happen.”

We both fell silent at that.

“You know, it was in the woods over there,” I said finally, gesturing to the trees over to our left. I had been trying to ignore them ever since we had arrived at Holland Hall. “I don’t know where, precisely, but somewhere on the path that he rode every day.” That I had ridden dozens of times, hundreds of times. “Perhaps we should ride through them now.”

Nick glanced at me. “You don’t need to—” he began.

“I know,” I said quickly. “But I want to.” I realized that I did want to, that riding that path would be like laying some kind of ghost for me. “If you’ll go with me.”

Nick got to his feet, and held out his hand. “Anywhere.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

In my mind, the Holland Hall woods had become a place of sharp shadows, of perpetual night, where trees rose like skeletons, and thorns tangled underfoot. I imagined them like the brambles that grew up around Sleeping Beauty’s castle, thick and forbidding.

The reality was, of course, the opposite of this. The woods were as beautiful as ever – more so, even, dressed in their autumn finery. Nick and I rode silently along the path, beneath an arbour of rustling leaves, drowsy sunlight filtering through the canopy they created. Everything was still and peaceful. Only birdsong and the sound of the horses’ hooves broke the quiet.

“My father used to always take this path down towards the tenant houses,” I said. “It’s not the quickest way, but he loved these woods.” I bit my lip. “At least, I think he did. I’m beginning to feel as though I didn’t know him at all.”

“You knew him,” Nick said. “You just didn’t know all of him. You were a child … it takes a long time for children to know their parents as real, flawed, complicated people. You never had that opportunity.”

“I suppose you’re right. But I can’t help thinking his behaviour towards Helena was unforgivable. And I don’t even like Helena!”

“It’s hard to witness your hero fall from his pedestal,” Nick suggested gently.

“Yes,” I agreed, blinking back the tears in my eyes. “I feel angry with him, and I have so many questions that no one else could ever answer, but I still feel his loss.” I pressed a hand to my chest. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

And somewhere along this path was where it happened. The words were unspoken, but of course we were both thinking it.

“The path is uneven,” I said reluctantly. “If he was drunk, I suppose he could have fallen easily enough.”