Page 18 of Thrones We Steal

“Coming forward with this would tear the country apart. You can’t just go around flinging two-hundred-year-old bombshells without a nasty fallout,” I say.

“It’ll come out eventually. Secrets always do.” He slides his concoction onto a plate and cuts it diagonally. “As much as it pains me to do this, are you sure you don’t want half?” He holds the plate toward me.

“Positive.” I say. “But I would appreciate being relieved of my duties as your torch-bearer.” I shine the light into his eyes.

He takes the phone from me and sticks it into his pocket. “Oh god,” he moans, after biting into the sandwich. “This is divine.”

“Spare me your food orgasm.”

“You have to try it.”

“Sorry, you lost me when you put anchovies on a perfectly good toastie.”

“C, I promise this will change your life.” He waves it close to my nose.

“I’ve had enough life-changing revelations for the night, thanks.”

He pushes away from the counter and comes to stand in front of me, close enough the scent of pine rises above that of burnt cheese. “Open up.” He moves even closer and shrugs. “Unless you’re scared.” His hips brush against my knees.

This situation is careening toward destruction. I lean forward blindly and manage to connect with the toastie he’s dangling in front of me. An explosion of flavor ricochets in my mouth—sweet, salty, tangy—all vying for attention.

“Well?” he says, like he’s an artist who’s just spent twelve months on a painting.

I offer a noncommittal grunt. “It’s okay.”

“Celia Eleanor, you lying twit. You loved it.”

I snicker and cover my mouth while I finish chewing. “It’s pretty good.”

He spins away from the counter and pumps a fist in the air. I use the opportunity to slip down from my perch and start putting things away. The sooner I send Henry on his way, the better.

“I still think we should come forward with all of this,” he says a few minutes later as he loads the dishwasher.

“And I think we shouldn’t.” I swipe a wet cloth over the countertop.

“Is it really because of Wesbourne? Or is it something else?”

My hand freezes mid-wipe. “Like what?”

“Like maybe you’re scared?”

“This isn’t a stupid sandwich, Henry. We’re talking about an entire country.”

“I know that. I also know that you will sacrifice everything if you think it’s the right thing to do.”

“I don’t consider severing that tenuous and potential thread sacrifice. The right thing to do here is to say nothing. Which I fully intend to do.”

“And give up the opportunity to make a real difference in this country?”

“Implying what I’ve done so far can’t be considered a ‘real difference?’” My skin heats with the rage starting to boil inside.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I just think you can do so much more.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy whose only contribution to date has been an enormous amount of broken hearts and probably more than a few STDs.”

His tone turns steely. “What I do is none of your business.”

“But what I do is yours?”

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