“I’m not so sure about that. I think she might already believe you. I imagine she’s trying to be more objective, though, now that she’s taking her place as second.”
I supposed that sounded reasonable. Mom took her responsibilities seriously, especially to the Amadis. After all, she kept secrets from me my entire life because of her loyalty to the Amadis, regardless of how much she did or didn’t trust them.
I pulled away to see Tristan’s face. “So you believe me?”
“Of course.”
“Because you really do or because you’re supporting your wife?”
He rolled his eyes. “Rina asked you to listen for a reason. We already knew betrayal was a strong possibility—we just didn’t know who or how. There’s no reason for me not to believe you. I hope there’s more to it, but I trust you.”
“So what are we going to do?”
“You work with Rina, learn better control, and try listening again.”
With a sigh, I pulled away and walked over to the balcony, noting how things changed so quickly since standing in the same place only a few hours ago.
“So you think I’ll ‘hear’ better—differently—if I have better control. You really don’t believe me, do you?”
Tristan came up behind me, and his arms encircled me. His breath fluttered my hair.
“Of course I do, my love, but if you can listen again, maybe you can find out more. Something we can use to convince Rina—”
“She’ll never believe me, Tristan. Not when she doesn’t want to hear it. And I don’t think I can stand to be in the same room with her.”
“But if you don’t master your power, we may never know the truth. Even if Rina doesn’t want to believe you, we can find out on our own if we have more information.”
“You mean, go searching for this girl?”
“If she exists, definitely. If we have a daughter out there, we will find her.”
I leaned against him, suddenly feeling exhausted, the strain of the last several days, the lack of sleep, and last night’s tossing-and-turning catching up with me. I had no energy to think about this new idea of his—a reason to work on my power. Or maybe I didn’t want to think about it, being as stubborn as Rina because I didn’t want to see her at the moment.
“In the meantime . . .” He kissed my ear and neck.
“We keep trying.”
“Exactly,” he murmured.
“But not now.”
His lips moved against my cheek. “Why not? Dorian probably doesn’t know we’re out of the meeting yet.”
“Honestly, because I’m so exhausted I might actually fall asleep in the middle of it.”
He recoiled and gave me a dramatically pained face. “I can’t believe you said that. You’d really—”
“No, probably not,” I said with a laugh. His expression didn’t change. “Okay, definitely not. I would not fall asleep in the middle of it. But I am really tired. Besides, I can’t do that again. Not after last night.”
“Mmm . . . I’ll have you convinced by tonight,” he promised, moving his mouth along my jaw. And I thought he might be right—he could be quite persuasive. “But I guess Dorian’s been told we’re back.”
Two seconds later, our son burst through the door.
After we settled him down, we spent a few moments of quiet family time for the first time ever. Dorian told us, again, about the airplane trips from Atlanta, where he, Mom, and I had been living up until a week ago, to Athens, and then the boat ride to the Amadis Island. Then he updated us on all the fun things he’d been doing in the days before we arrived. Based on his stories, Rina, Mom, and the others protected the Amadis secrets—he seemed to know nothing about the magic of the island, the village or that the people around him were any different than norms.
The quiet time lasted about fifteen minutes. In most regards, he was a normal six, nearly seven, year old boy, and fifteen minutes was about as long as he could sit still. We steered the conversation to his birthday, less than two weeks away, but he grew too excited as he told us what he wanted—a puppy and a dog and a puppy and, oh yeah, a dog. He didn’t care what kind and bounced all over the room as he rattled off every possible color. Finally, I urged Tristan to take him out and do some father-son bonding. They deserved it. They needed it.
As I watched them leave the suite, Dorian’s tiny hand wrapped in Tristan’s large one, happiness surged inside me. But instantly feeling completely alone, I started wondering what it would be like to see the boys leaving to do their boy things and to still have a daughter here with me, to do girl things. What would we do? Paint our nails? Bake brownies? I had a feeling a daughter of ours—the so-called ultimate warrior and fierce protector—would probably be more of a tomboy, wanting to go off with her dad and brother. Either way, I’d be happy to have my family . . . my complete family.
I fell onto the bed, stared at the blue gossamer canopy, which someone must have repaired after last night’s escapades with Tristan that now felt like years ago, and mentally recapped the council meeting. The end had been so emotionally violent. Could Rina and Mom be right? Did I twist the thoughts, jumbling them because of my inexperience? Once again, though, the traitor’s thought came loud and clear in my head, as if I were hearing it again. No, I know what I heard. Maybe the traitor was right—Mom and Rina relied too much on their feelings and couldn’t see what was right in front of them. After all, they’d been so sure I’d been pregnant with twins, based on their feelings. They’d even had me convinced, but I obviously hadn’t been. Or had I? As I drifted off to sleep, I didn’t know what or whom to believe anymore.
When I awoke several hours later, the late afternoon sun cast an orange glow over the cypress trees outside our window. I felt like a brand-new person, which was exactly what sleep did for us—it completely regenerated our cells. I took a bath in a marble tub large enough for a party . . . or a lot of fun for just two, which made me wonder where Tristan was.
He and Dorian were not upstairs in our wing, so I meandered down the stone steps to the main level of the mansion. I refused to use the telepathy to find anyone and instead used regular old Norman thinking. The sitting room and the kitchen made the most sense for where they might be and the sitting room was closer. I heard someone moving about inside and headed there first.
As soon as I entered, I regretted it. I didn’t find Tristan and Dorian. Rather, Rina stood by the coffee table, holding Tristan’s and my history books. I didn’t want to talk to her yet, but I didn’t want her to take our books, either.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, moving into the room and reaching my hand out for the books. “I didn’t mean to leave them lying around. I can take them—”
“Oh, no, darling. They must be returned to the Sacred Archives.”
“We don’t get to keep them?”
“I am sorry, dear, but as your stories continue, they can only be written in the Sacred Archives.”
I silenced a growl building in my chest. “But I’m not done reading the past.”
“You have read the whole thing, no?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s not what I mean. I want to study it more.”