Confusion didn't even begin to cut what I felt after Tristan had uttered that statement. What he'd meant to say, I realized after a moment of parsing through his awkward delivery, was that I was the only one he could trust with information like this.
Since I was hell bent on giving back to the church every ounce of misery they gave to us, he felt like he owed me this explanation. Fair enough.
There were no words to capture the exact feeling it stirred in me. But there was a subtle inkling, something sitting at the edge of my throat like a half-formed promise, that this information was going to prove very useful. That this might turn out to be more than simple vengeance.
More than just burning down the house that burned us first.
What exactly was I thinking?
