"You're asking me," Dimitri said.
"Yes."
"Why should I?"
"Because she was your fiancée."
The word sat on the line between them.
"Betrothed since she was a child," Dante went on. "You were supposed to marry her. For years someone has been poisoning her, and the family you were about to join never noticed. Not her father. Not her mother. Not you. If that means nothing to you, say so, and I'll hang up and find another way. But if it means anything at all, you have a reason to want to know who did this."
"That engagement was a signature between two fathers," Dimitri said. "It was never a vow."
"I know that."
"Then you know it carries no obligation."
"I'm not asking you to owe her anything," Dante said. "I'm telling you what she was."
Dimitri looked at the dark door that led down the hall to the room where Eve slept. He thought of a girl at the far end of a long dinner table, pale and quiet. He had never wanted her. He had never wanted this for her either.
