And it makes sense in hindsight, but it was nothing she ever would have predicted, ever would have banked on - or even wanted, when it came down to it, as it makes everything that much more complicated. But it seems she really is primary to him, over his position, over his job, over his ego. Maybe she could have told him everything from the beginning - if she was someone else. Someone raised to trust people outside of her small circle, someone not brought up keeping everything so close to the vest. But if she'd been that person, he likely never would have loved her in the first place.
She presses her lips together, rosy from the bath though her skin has started to chill, and she squares her shoulders. "I thought my brother was dead," she tells him, soft but sure. "I paid a runner to go to Huntsville, to see if there was any trace of him. He found a locked cell, with two bodies, one with my brother's ID on it. And a box of letters from him to me, which he never sent because he didn't have an address." Her voice is uneven there, recalling them, and she lets that come through, too. She shifts her towel tighter, continues to watch Thomas' face, ever careful. She never, ever dreamed of saying these things to him, and it feels completely surreal. She can only hope that she is making the right move. She keeps talking in the hope that he'll want the facts enough to let her finish. "That was in April."
She shifts from foot to foot, and then finally she steps out of the tub, puts her pruny toes onto the plush bath mat before she sits herself down on the edge of the tub, and then reaches up to take his hand, to urge him down beside her. He doesn't resist, and she hopes that is a good sign. When she speaks again she's looking at her toes, pale pink.
"In May he found me. He'd been showing an old photograph of me around to every traveler he came across, and someone finally made the connection." Her gaze returns to his face, and she doesn't look sorry, just pensive. Bits of red hair are curling around her face with the steam, and she brushes one away as it tangles with her lashes. "I met up with him. He raised me, he means the world to me, Thomas. I won't ever apologize for that. But you and I didn't speak then. I had caught on about the cameras, the bugs. I was... wary. Maybe I could have told you, but I couldn't be sure." Her left hand is flat against the towel on her thigh, her engagement and wedding ring glinting there. She smooths the thick terrycloth tidily. "I was told, recently, that there was a rumor going around about the Dog King's identity. I knew I was deep in the lie, and I just didn't know how it would shake out. So I packed a bag, just in case. Just in case. You're not the only one who tries to be thoroughly prepared, darling."