The next day, Mr. Rye drove Delia to the imposing, gray stone building that housed the kingdom's Criminal and Justice Division. The carriage came to a stop, and as Mr Rye opened the door, Delia saw him. George Pembroke. George was standing outside the building, waiting for her, his expression a mixture of desperation and exhaustion.
He walked towards her as soon as he saw her stepped down from the carriage. "I'm sorry, Delia," he said, his voice a low, miserable sound.
Delia was quiet. She simply looked at him, her own face a calm, unreadable mask.
"I know an apology isn't going to solve anything, I know that the damage has already been done" George continued, his gaze fixed on the ground in front of her feet. "But I truly mean it. I am so sorry."
Delia finally turned to face him fully. "What, exactly, are you sorry for, George?" she asked, her voice cool and direct.
Confused by her question, he looked up. "What?"
