"Good God," someone muttered. Lucien, perhaps.

Charles held his breath, unable to focus, waiting for his friends to judge him, knowing he would deserve it if any of them walked out of this room. An inner torment twisted sharply inside him, because part of him wanted them to. At least then he'd know he was right all along, that he didn't deserve them.

"I have regretted that decision every day of my life," he said at last. "And I will understand if any of you wish to ...