Page 125 of Mistress of Lies

“Bart…” Anton reached for him, but the young man just pulled away.

“No,” he said firmly. “This is on both of you, and I refuse to be caught in the middle.” To soften the blow, he pressed a kiss to Anton’s forehead. “I’ll be nearby, going through some correspondence.”

Anton watched him leave with a frown, and Shan hid her smile behind her hand. As the Sparrow, she shouldn’t tolerate him giving commands, but she had to admire the way he stood up for himself. Because he was right—this wasn’t his problem. Everything between her and her brother was of their own making.

Sighing, Anton joined Shan at the liquor cabinet. “Honestly, I never thought that de la Cruz had it in him, standing up to the Eternal Bastard like that, but he has made quite a mess of things.”

Pouring a glass of whisky—Anton’s whisky—she turned around and sipped slowly, the burning liquid heavy on her tongue. “I thought you’d be happy. These new laws will give your… society much to print about.”

He scoffed. “Perhaps. But the threat of imprisonment will not help circulation.”

She hardly dared to breathe for hope. “Does this mean you’ll stop?”

“Of course not. There is always the hope that making it a crime makes it more enticing.” He downed his whisky, then turned to pour himself another. “Also, you all have just proved how necessary our work is.”

She didn’t bother correcting him—how it wasn’t them, not all of them. This wasn’t the will of the nobles, but the will of one man exercised over all. Because, in the end, it didn’t really matter. In the end, he was the one who was most at risk.

Instead, she whispered, “I think you should take a trip, Anton. You and Bart.”

He blinked at her. “What are you going on about now?”

“When we were young, you used to beg Mother to tell you stories of her home.” She sank on the settee, the glass suddenly heavy in her hand. “You would sit at her feet as she’d tell you tale after tale. You remember that, don’t you?”

Anton squatted in front of her so that they were at eye level. “I do.”

She drank again. “Do you ever wonder what happened to her?”

“All the damned time.”

“I tried not to think of her,” Shan said quietly. “Trained myself to forget her. To cut out every bit of her and let her die.”

“I know.” Anton hung his head, surely to hide the pain that was still raw and real, even after all these years. “I was there.”

“But you didn’t,” Shan said. “You clung to her memory, even after she abandoned us.”

“Shan,” Anton said, quietly. Gently. Like she was a fragile thing about to break. “You know it’s not that simple.”

“I know that now.” Shan drained her glass. “It was different then.”

“You were a child,” Anton said, “and father was there, whispering poison in your ear.”

“She was still my mother,” Shan spat. “And I let myself be fooled.” Anton’s hand found hers, squeezing tightly, and she had to blink away tears. “I just let him fill me with so much hate.”

“Shan… it’s not that I mind this conversation, but why now?”

She pulled away, creating a deliberate amount of distance between them. “Have you considered trying to find her? We have the funds. We can get you on a ship tomorrow. You can find her, bring her back to us.”

Anton stood. “I would love that one day. But I am not a fool. This timing is suspicious.”

Shan followed him, filling his glass and pushing it into his hand. “Can’t I just want to make you happy?”

“You can,” Anton admitted. “Sometimes I think you want it too much. Sometimes I think you want it so badly you don’t care about what would actually make me happy.”

Shan exhaled slowly. “Sometimes I wish you didn’t know me so well.”

“And sometimes I wish you knew me better.” He raised his glass in a mocking toast. “But I am your twin, and if you think I don’t see the way you’re trying to manipulate me, then you’d be dead wrong.”

She wanted to lie—no, not just wanted, ached to. It was her first instinct, the words gathering on the tip of her tongue as she prepared to cover up her weaknesses. But it wouldn’t do her any good. Not with Anton.

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