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Payen chuckled proudly—and a little bitterly. Not a stupid one, his Violet. "Above all, I'd say herself, but that might not be fair. Between the two of us, I think she loved Stephen more. Regardless, she was only interested in one thing from either of us."

"Let me guess." Violet crossed her arms beneath her generous breasts, unknowingly pushing the generous swells of flesh upward like an offering of worship just for him. "Alyce belonged to the Silver Palm."

Perhaps he should be surprised that she figured it out, but it did sound like the plot out of a gothic novel or some moral tale against the sin and evils of woman that seemed so popular these days. "Not quite. Her brother did. Back then the Order hadn't realized that women could be as useful to their organization. That came a little later." He wasn't going to think of those women now.

"So how did she betray you?"

So transparent. The depth of the story was either lost on her, or he had made too much of it in his own mind. "I did it to myself. I revealed the truth about myself to her."

Hazel eyes widened. Was that hurt in the bright depths? Surely she had to know there had been women before her. So many women.

But never one like her.

Violet's long fingers clutched at the front of her robe, twisting the silky fabric. "She betrayed you to her brother."

For a moment, Payen wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and kiss her senseless—forever. The words were said with such horror, such disgust. Perhaps it was because she had no blood relation left to have such loyalty as Alyce's. Or, perhaps it was because Violet would never betray a man she claimed to care for.

Which meant she didn't care for Villiers—not really.

"Yes. She confessed what she had done to Stephen, why I don't know. The idiot came to warn me, a hero till the end."

"He was killed in the fight? Henry told me he was killed in battle."

Payen flinched before meeting her gaze. "That's what I told him. In truth, the battle didn't start until after Stephen died. He was killed by Alyce's brother, who had already murdered his own sister for her disloyalty."

Violet frowned. "That must have been horrible for you."

"I had my vengeance." He wasn't about to tell her what he had done to those men. He didn't want to think about it, but even after all of these centuries, he could smell their blood in the air, feel the stickiness of it on his hands.

And his shrewd little Vi, so much sturdier and stronger than her namesake, looked at him as though she too smelled what he smelled and felt what he felt. She would have been right there beside him, a sword in hand.

She would kill for him, he realized with a sudden jolt—one that hit straight in his heart.

She also wasn't about to let him off with a story of old betrayal. "So you don't want to be with me because I might hand you over to the Silver Palm? You don't trust me?"

"That's not it at all."