Page 39 of Vengeance Becomes Her

Tristain caught her eyeing the band.

“This was meant to be my wedding ring. I know it must seem pathetic and morbid that I wear it, especially when I never had the chance when she and I were still together. But I can’t seem to part with this piece of her, even if she did betray me in the end.” His voice cracked slightly on the last word.

“It’s not pathetic. You experienced tragedy Tristain, I don’t blame you for having a hard time letting go.” She stared at the loose strand of hair that brushed against his brow, shifting back and forth in the breeze. She wanted nothing more than to run it through her fingers. To caress the side of his face. To offer him some comfort. But she knew it would be inappropriate, so she fought the itch and balled her fists.

“I suppose.” He sighed. The hair must have distracted him too, because he twirled it around his finger absentmindedly as he pulled his thoughts together.

“I didn’t think much of it then but when Silas came back to the estate unexpectedly, Leylah spent fewer nights with me. I’d assumed it was because her mother had fallen ill. I’d expected that she was helping her sister care for her. That was the Leylah I knew. There was no need to question it. Instead, she’d been spending her time with Silas. He was only back for a little over a month, it wasn’t enough time for me to grow suspicious given the circumstances.” He leaned back on the bench, his head tilting back. “The thing about Leylah was that she was open and easily trusting.”

“She should have trusted your past experience with Silas,” Rhiannon butted in.

“Maybe. That’s just who she was, eager to be loved and show love.” He twisted the ring roughly around his finger. “And you’ve seen Silas, he’s charming and handsome when he wants to be. He can spin the stories you want to hear, make you want to believe him.”

Protectiveness boiled over within Rhiannon. “That doesn’t excuse what she did. You loved her. You were committed to spending the rest of your life with her. I know without a doubt that you were everything and more than she could have needed.” She knew once the words left her lips it had been the wrong thing to say, but she was angry. He didn’t deserve the pain she’d caused him. This man who had come into her life and done nothing but help her. Who had shown her patience, kindness, and compassion.

“You didn’t know her. She was perfect. She had been.” His voice was growing thick with frustration and sadness. “You don’t understand.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just difficult to sit here and listen to you excuse someone who hurt you—deeply—for no other reason than their own selfishness.”

She was riled up and she couldn’t stop. Her heart was breaking for him as the images played out in her mind. Her abandoning Tristain to sneak off with his brother, all while lying about her own mother’s health. What kind of woman does that? She rose from the bench abruptly, pacing in front of it.

“I’m not excusing her, but I won’t speak ill of the dead. I loved her. She was a lifelong friend. She was murdered.” He placed a harsh emphasis on the last word, as if she needed to be reminded of what Silas had done.

She stopped directly in front of him, staring into his eyes like she was trying to pry into his inner thoughts. How could he be so forgiving?

He held a hand up, as if he had heard what she was thinking.

“I prefer to remember our time together fondly, well as fondly as possible. She made a mistake in the end and it cost her life. I think she’s earned my compassion despite everything.” He rose from the bench too, standing directly in front of her. His eyes were pleading with her to understand where he was coming from. “I was the one who found her. She was limp, and so cold, and her hair…” he reached out and ran a few white strands of her hair through his fingers longingly. “He had just left her there, alone, like she was nothing.”

A single tear escaped, then another, and then more. Tristain didn’t make a sound. He simply closed his eyes and let them fall freely. She imagined that she might have been the only person he’d ever been able to talk about this with.

Rhiannon wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him against her, while he cried into the soft fabric on her shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning fully into her. She wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, but based on the strain in her heels from arching herself upward and the barely visible edges of the descending sun, it had been a while.

When the final light of day fell away, he slowly uncurled his arms from around her and she eased back, giving him space.

“Thank you.” Tristain reached out and squeezed her hand before turning toward the house and taking the stone path through the garden that would lead him to the back entrance.

Rhiannon stood there for several minutes listening to the night come to life around her. The silence was peaceful as she let go of some of the pain that she had tried to takefrom Tristain.

Her anger toward Leylah had ebbed, but the sorrow of his heartbreak clung heavily to her like the dirt from the garden after a long day of training.

She scrubbed her skin harshly that night, trying to erase the guilt and frustration that plagued her mind.It didn’t work.

Tristain was nowhere to be found when Rhiannon arrived for training, so she allowed him the space he needed to mourn. But when he still hadn’t come out of his room for dinner, Rhiannon took it upon herself to make Tristain a plate and hand-deliver it.

She found the conversation dull without his quips and wry smiles. Part of her motivation was selfish, she didn’t want to sit down for another meal without him. But she was also worried that his grief would consume him if heallowed it to.

She knocked firmly when she reached his door.

Tristain opened it hesitantly. His wavy tendrils were slicked back, wet from the bath, allowing her to get a full view of his face that looked drawn and tired.

“What’s this?” He nodded his head toward the plate.

“Dinner, for you.” Heat rushed to her cheeks. Suddenly she felt self-conscious about checking in on him. He was a full-grownman, after all.

The right side of his lips kicked up in a shy smile. “You brought me dinner. I knew you liked me more than you let on.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his bedroom.

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