“I meant no offense.” He holds his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I would be glad to add to your collection. When the time is right, naturally.”

Now it’s my turn to blink stupidly. “What are you talking about?”

“When we are wed, obviously.” He offers me a polite smile. An expectant one even. “I will make sure that you shall want for nothing.”

I haven’t spared a single thought for the wedding. The fact that it would still happen, even after everything, feels wrong.

A strangled little laugh works its way up my throat. “I want for nothing now.” I spread my arms wide, indicating the riches that surround us. The gilded molding on the ceiling, the paintings set between the shelves imported from the most desired European masters of the arts. Trophies from my father’s travels scattered about on every surface that isn’t occupied by a book. Ivory from the deepest reaches of the African continent. A collection of jeweled scarabs from some pharaoh’s tomb. Tapestries woven from Chinese silk. And, of course, the books. So many books. More than any other household on the hill. First editions and folios and illuminated manuscripts so beautiful it breaks the heart to look upon them. “What else could you possibly offer me?”

“Power.” He says it like it’s so obvious. “Protection.”

“And what, pray tell do I need protecting from?”

Sebastian scoffs softly. “People like us are always in danger.” His eyes rove to the portrait set against the far wall. It is a portrait. A large one. I have tried very hard not to look at it since entering the room. The artist was one of the finest money could commission. He did a lovely job rendering the faces of our family—me, my father, Ana, and Alejandro. So much so that if I look at it, if I glance upon my brother’s visage, I might just crack. “What happened to Alejandro should have proven that.”

Time seems to dilate, as if we were standing underwater, suspended and slow. “What do you mean?”

Sebastian looks back at me, and I cannot read what’s on his face. “All I meant was that I do not wish to see you hurt. In any fashion. You are to be my wife, and as your husband, it will be my solemn duty to protect you from all harm.”

“Losing my brother is not the sort of thing anyone could protect me from.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Perhaps nothing. My brother killed himself.” The words sit heavy on my tongue, clinging thick and viscous like the foulest of oils. I do not believe them to be true. I know that they are not. And yet, that is the prevailing wisdom. It would not do to blare my theories aloud to anyone with ears. “Haven’t you heard?”

Sebastian cants his head to the side, his gaze measured. “That is what they’re saying, yes.”