Page 32 of Beloved Sacrifice

Chapter Six

“What’s the Masters’ Admiralty?”

Weston tapped the picture of the Isle of Man’s flag. “They’re where the Trinity Masters came from.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. Weston’s heart twanged with a sense of both loss and familiarity. Her thinking face was the same now as it had been when they were young. The cold mask she wore was that of an adult stranger, but when she’d wept in his arms it had been heartbreakingly familiar, as was this expression.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. “There’s a Trinity Masters in England.”

He nodded. “It’s the Masters’ Admiralty, and they call it ‘the Admiralty.’ I think that everything the purists have belonged to families of the Admiralty.”

“They gave it to the Trinity Masters for safekeeping during the war?”

Weston stopped before he spoke and reconsidered what he’d been about to say. He’d done all this on his own, and hadn’t had the chance to work through his logic with anyone else. Instead of telling her what he thought, he asked her the question he’d asked himself. “That’s what I thought, but if that was the case, why wasn’t it returned after the war?”

“Everyone died.” She frowned. “No, that doesn’t make sense. They couldn’t have all died.”

“That’s also what I thought.”

“Maybe…maybe the Admiralty stole all the art and…” She shook her head. “Same problem. If it was given to the Trinity Masters for safekeeping, no matter where it came from, why wasn’t it given back after the war?” She walked around the room again. “The Admiralty—were they with the allied or axis powers?”

“I don’t know. What are you thinking?”

“If they were trying to raise money for the Nazi cause, maybe the Trinity Masters, the purists, were supposed to sell it.”

“But when they lost the war…” Weston prompted.

“Why wasn’t the art donated or returned?” Rose shook her head. “But we know the purists have been using it as a piggy bank. Whenever they needed cash, someone would beg me for a copy of the map. If they were just holding it, hiding it, they wouldn’t have sold it and then used the money for themselves.”

Weston nodded. “Which means that…”

She shot him an irritated look. “Is this a test?”

“No, I just want to know if you’ll reach the same conclusions I have.”

“Well, I don’t have twelve years.” The snark was minimal, but there.

He didn’t respond.

“This only makes sense if either everyone who knew about it in the Admiralty died, and the purists decided not to say anything, and just keep it for themselves.”

“That’s one possibility.”

“And what’s the other?” she asked.

“If the purists stole it from the Admiralty.”

Rose pursed her lips. “That’s certainly more in keeping with the purists. Barton and Elroy all but cleaned that place out not long after you…after you left.”

“I didn’t leave you, Rose. I nearly died because I went after them without the power and information I needed. This is what I was doing.” He waved his had around the room, then lowered his voice. “I didn’t leave you.”

She folded her arms, elbows tucked hard to her body. “You did. You left me.”

“Caden was there.”

“Caden was…” She swallowed hard. “I’m not having this conversation with you right now.”

“I’m sorry. I know you’re grieving.”

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