“It’s easier to open,” he lied. He supposed he’d have to show her how to do it eventually, for her own safety, but for now, he was going to let her think she’d have been fine.

“I can’t even run away properly,” she muttered.

He held out his hand to steer her up the shallow steps. “Is that what you were doing? Running away?”

“I was making an exit.”

“If that’s the case, then you did a fine job.”

Iris turned to him with an inscrutable expression, then deftly pulled her hand from his. She used it to shade her eyes, but it felt like a rejection.

“You don’t need to be nice to me,” she said bluntly.

His lips parted, and it took him a moment to mask his surprise. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”

“I don’t want you to be nice to me!”

“You don’t—”

“You are a monster!” She put a fist against her mouth, but he heard the choked sob all the same. And then, in a much smaller voice, she said, “Why can’t you just act like one and let me hate you?”

“I don’t want you to hate me,” he said softly.

“That’s not your choice.”

“No,” he agreed.

She looked away, the dappled morning light playing along the intricate braids she wore like a crown. She was so beautiful to him it hurt. He wanted to go to her, wrap his arms around her and whisper nonsense against her hair. He wanted to make her feel better, and then he wanted to make sure no one ever hurt her again.

That, he thought caustically, was his honor.

Would she ever forgive him? Or at least understand? Yes, this was a mad thing he’d asked of her, but he’d done it for his sister. To protect her. Surely Iris, of all people, could understand that.

“I would like to be alone right now,” Iris said.

Richard was quiet for a moment before saying, “If that is your wish.” But he didn’t leave. He wanted just one more moment with her, even in silence.

She looked up at him as if to say, what now?

He cleared his throat. “May I escort you to a bench?”

“No thank you.”

“I would—”

“Stop!” She lurched back, holding her hand out as if to ward off an evil spirit. “Stop being nice. What you did was reprehensible.”

“I’m not a monster,” he stated.

“You are,” she cried. “You have to be.”

“Iris, I—”

“Don’t you understand?” she demanded. “I don’t want to like you.”

Richard felt a glimmer of hope. “I’m your husband,” he said. She was supposed to like him. She was supposed to feel so much more than that.

“If you are my husband, it is only because you tricked me,” she said in a low voice.