Page 31 of Veiled Yearning

Just as I’m about to knock at her door, uncertainty sweeps through me. Am I doing the right thing? Will I be able to help, or will I just make things worse? Like Knight said, what do I know about comforting a woman?

Nothing, really.

Except. There’s just this need to make sure Chiara is okay.

So I take a steadying breath, feeling very unlike the strong and confident man I’ve considered myself to be, and rap lightly on the door.

When she doesn’t answer after a few seconds, I knock again, this time saying, “Chiara. It’s Gavril. Can I come in?”

Another long stretch of silence, and I try again. “Chiara.” I try to keep my tone low and soothing, the way I’ve heard David and Alex talk to upset women. “I just want to see if you’re okay. I’m worried about you.”

After another interminable stretch of quiet, Chiara’s voice filters through the wooden door. “You can come in.”

As I open the door, I brace myself for a range of possibilities. Chiara angry, her dark eyes flashing, telling me she wants to leave. Or that terrible look of betrayal—hurt flickering in her dark gaze—a repeat of what I saw in the meeting, when she realized I’d told the others about her abilities.

But it’s worse than that.

She looks so damn sad. Not just sad. Broken.

Tucked into the chair by the window, she’s hunched into herself, arms wrapped around her knees. Her elegant features are shadowed, her lips pressed into a pale and trembling line. The fire in her eyes has gone out. And her expression… It’s not angry or judging. It’s scared.

“Oh, Chiara.” Like an invisible line is tugging at me, I rush over and kneel in front of her. “I’m sorry. I told you it would be okay, and then—”

“No one understands.” Her voice is whisper-soft. “They don’t know what it—” Her voice catches. “I can’t be like that. I don’t want…” she trails off, and her eyes fill with tears.

Dammit. Sad Chiara is already terrible, but crying Chiara? I can’t bear it.

“You don’t have to,” I soothe. “No one is going to make you do anything. Larkin’s sorry, he knows he went too far. He’s been involved in this for so long, and he’s lost a lot of friends… it’s not an excuse, just an explanation. But he knows he was wrong.”

She swallows hard, and her voice wobbles a little. “That’s not the worst part. I know why he… why all of you… want me…”

“No.” I’m adamant. “The help you’re already giving us is more than enough.”

As her gaze meets mine, a tear slips down her cheek. “I know it makes me seem selfish. Not doing everything to help. But I just”—another crack—“you don’t understand. How terrible it is.”

“You don’t have to, Chiara. I swear.”

“But I want you to know. So you understand I’m not being selfish.”

I’m quick to reply. “I don’t think that.” How could I, considering how generous she’s been?

Chiara stares at me, more tears escaping. She swallows again, and says quietly, “When I was ten, my parents died. First my mother; she was pregnant and died in childbirth. A few months later, my father was killed in a carriage accident. I went to stay with a family that knew my parents, and I thought they would keep me.”

Something in Chiara’s voice tells me that wasn’t the case. This time, when she brushes more tears away, I catch her hand and cradle it in mine.

“They didn’t, though. They sent me off to live with a different family, one I’d never met. And when I got there, I found out I wasn’t there to be adopted, like I’d been told. I was sent there to be a servant. I’d been sold.”

“Ah, Chiara.”

“So I worked there for years. Until I was almost eighteen. It wasn’t good there, but at least they didn’t beat me. I got enough food. I was hoping to get a job in a factory, so I could go out on my own. The family said I could.”

She pauses, her gaze going distant. “But they lied. Just before I turned eighteen, they sold me. To a wealthy man who lived in a different part of the city. When I first met him, he seemed nice. But then…”

Oh, no. “You don’t have to—”

Her eyes rise to meet mine, darkening. “He wasn’t nice. At all.”

Icy tendrils of dread creep up my spine. “Chiara—”

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