“There’s always a choice.” Nico says, his voice quiet. Resolved.
“Three minutes.” Carter says.
Fuck.
The corner of Nico’s left eye twitches. He pushes himself out of the chair, hands clenched in fists at his side. “What. Did you. Do?”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. You have to believe that. Just...” I press my palms flat on his chest, hoping—for even a second—to keep his fury at bay. I swear I can feel his heart pounding. “Just tell me you believe I didn’t intend for things to go down—”
“If you don’t quit dancing around the issue and tell me what you did, I’ll open that fucking door myself.”
Everything tumbles out in a rush of words I hope make sense. “English soldiers murdered my parents. They killed Papa right in front of me. My maman died when our ship to the colonies sank in a storm. And then...” Nico tries to side-step around me; I clutch fistfuls of his shirt to keep him in place. I know it all sounds like pathetic excuses. He doesn’t look me in the eye. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t look me in the eye, either. Still, I hold tight to his shirt like it’s a lifeline to his heart. “After that, I was sold into indentured servitude.”
Tears stream down my cheeks. He’s got to see what they did to me. Why I had no choice. “I was nine years old! It’s like fate pointed her cruel, twisted fingers at me and cursed me with surviving alone. So, that’s what I did: I survived.”
A slow, rhythmic clap echoes through the cabin. “Brava, my dear,” Carter says. “You should resurrect the Penny Dreadful tales of old. You’re quite the storyteller. Dial it back a little bit, though, you’re overacting.”
“I swear to God, Carter,” I say, clenching my teeth, “if you say one more word, I’ll—”
Nico interrupts. “I know you’re a survivor. That’s not the point.”
“I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.” Why can’t he fucking see that?
“You’re dancing around the question. What did you do that caused the king to execute Anne before she gives birth to Elizabeth?”
Carter’s voice breaks in. “I can read him the letter, if you like. I’ve got it right here.”
“What letter?” Nico says, folding his arms over his chest. His jawline is hard set, like marble.
“I forged a letter from Lady Anne to Sir Thomas Wyatt that made it look like she’s still in love with him.”
“Shit,” Nico swears under his breath.
Carter reads part of the letter.
“My Dearest Thomas, I weep for our lost love as I prepare to marry the king. I beg you, do not exile me from your heart. I could not bear it if you do. Please, my dearest heart, do not abandon me in my greatest hour of need. The child I carry is yours, not the king’s.”
He pauses, then adds: “As love letters go, this is particularly poignant.”
“I didn’t write that,” I say, shaking my head.
Nico sighs and his eyes narrow. “You said you wrote the letter.”
“The one I wrote said nothing about Anne being pregnant because, I overheard her uncle and Charles Brandon at the scaffolds today, I wasn’t sure she was with child.” My shrug feels as helpless as it must look. “I guess it was easier to ignore the whole scenario.”
“You’re saying someone faked your fake letter?” Nico says.
“Someone changed the letter, yes. No wonder Henry went ballistic and executed them both. He thought Anne carried Wyatt’s child.”
“Who died and made you God? You think you can judge who is born and who isn’t?” Nico says it softly, but it hits my heart like a neutron bomb. And his pained eyes tear me in half.
“Don’t look at me like that.” My eyes fall to the floor.
“Like what? Like I don’t know you anymore? Like I can’t fucking believe you would do something like this?”
“I saw a way to stop my parents’ murders before they happened. I had to save them. I had to try.”
Nico pushes past me. He interlaces his fingers and cups the back of his head with his hands as he stares at the ceiling. “Your actions killed Anne Boleyn and the future queen of England,” he says, sounding exhausted.
“I didn’t think anyone would die. I thought if I convinced the king that Lady Anne was still in love with Thomas Wyatt, he would just banish her from court. I didn’t know—”
He turns and we lock eyes, and it’s a glare that pushes my heart off a cliff. I open my mouth to apologize for the whole mess, but he holds up a trembling hand. A cascade of shifting emotions flickers across his face: anger, hurt, bewilderment, sadness, disappointment.
“You told me you wouldn’t do anything stupid, but you were planning this all along.” He lets out a long, ragged breath. “You lied to me.”
“We lie all the time.” I offer a half-hearted shrug. It’s a shitty move, I know, but I feel like I’m hanging onto him with my fingertips and my grip is slipping. “It’s what we do on every job. We lie all the time. To everyone.”
Nico explodes, directing the force of his rage into his fist as he drives it into the cabin wall. “Not to each other! Never to each other.”
“You don’t know what it’s like,” I shoot back. My face feels flushed with heat. “You’ve never lost everyone you ever loved. Never lost—”
“How the hell do you know what I’ve lost? You push me away too much to know anything about my past.” He licks his lips and squares off to face me head-on. “Revenge. Is that really what this is really all about?”
“What would you do to save your family?” I’m vaguely aware that what I intended to say with some semblance of calm has erupted as a primal howl.
“Not this.” He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “Anything but this. I could have helped you. We could have worked through all of this
