“Yes,” Kael said.
It was the simplest word in the language, and it came across the thread clean and bright and true. There was no mask on it this time.
“Since the night in the diner. I have lied to you by omission and by silence and by plain words, and I would do it again tomorrow, because there are things I would rather die than let you carry.” His voice cracked straight down the middle. “I am not asking you to forgive me. I am telling you that the lies are not what I am. They are the shape of what I cannot say.”
“That is not an answer,” Ariana said. Her eyes were burning. “It is a wall with a pretty door painted on it. I am holding a painting of a baby wearing my necklace, that you hid and lied about. Who are those people? Why does it make you look like that?”
“Please.” He took a ste
