My head already began to ache as I concentrated on moving my cloud along to Armand, and then, following Rina’s instructions, onto the next person, the were-falcon (a brief dip into her thoughts confirmed my theory of her being a bird). As everyone else discussed exactly how long we should stay on the island, I continued coercing my cloud around the table, taking my time with the mages. I learned nothing from their thoughts.
“We do not know for sure about the boy,” said a beautiful woman with raven hair and eyes, and skin the color of smooth caramel. Wearing an intricately embellished, gold sari, I figured she came from India and discovered she lived part of her life as a leopard when I checked her mind. I couldn’t help the intrusion, although she wasn’t a mage, after that statement about Dorian. Did she know something the rest of us didn’t?
“Of course we do, Chandra,” said the Italian blond man I’d seen in the village earlier. They had called him Savio, and I learned now, he was a were-shark. He and Armand were definitely on the same team, a team against Tristan. And, apparently, against Dorian. I didn’t like the French vamp and the Italian shifter. Not one bit. “You are always optimistic, but all boys go to the Daemoni. That’s how it is, how it’s always been.”
“There is nothing wrong with having hope,” Chandra thought, but she didn’t respond aloud to Savio’s dismissive statement. I supposed she didn’t know anything, but simply wanted to hope, as I did.
“We will give them as much time as they need. Alexis needs to learn our ways before returning to the Norman world,” Rina said, putting that line of conversation to a temporary end. Surely they’d give us a move-out day sooner or later.
Although I hadn’t learned anything useful, I needed a mental break and allowed my cloud to disintegrate before my head exploded.
“As long as they’re trying for a daughter, who cares where they are?” Minh, the Asian witch with the green hat, asked. If she hadn’t been talking about me, I would have giggled with surprise at this little, soft-spoken woman bringing up the topic of sex. But she was talking about me. And her topic wasn’t sex, not really. It was the daughter I’d failed to give them.
The next daughter was a hotter topic than I expected. Everyone had something to say. They were more concerned about this subject than anything they’d discussed so far, even more than they were about the Daemoni’s preparations for war. After all, without a daughter to rule in the future, the Amadis would fall, regardless of what the Daemoni did. Having to face everyone in person made me feel worse than ever about this failure.
Armand went so far as to demand proof that Tristan and I were proactively working on this.
“Armand,” Martin said with a warning tone. “That is not an appropriate question.”
Armand banged his fist on the table. “We deserve to know.”
“We are working on it,” Tristan said. “I personally guarantee it.”
My face heated and surely became redder than the tomato on Minh’s hat. To add to my complete embarrassment, Solomon spoke up as a witness to confirm we were, indeed, working on it. Once again, I wanted to crawl under the table and never come out again.
My head pounded. The concentration of listening to everyone’s minds, the frustration of not learning anything, and the tension of this topic were like hammers taking turns on my brain. I felt so inadequate, in more ways than one, and didn’t want to disappoint Rina again. Since I hadn’t brought her the next daughter, I could at least do better with my so-called gift. So I tried once again, painstakingly pushing the cloud to only the mages, besides Owen, Charlotte, and Martin.
The conversation heated, though, making concentration on anyone’s thoughts difficult. Voices grew loud, and hands waved about as everyone’s emotional investment in this became clear. I tried to ignore the feeling of being personally attacked, even as my breaths grew shallow and my soul felt as though they physically pounded it. Just focus on your task. Don’t worry about them. Tristan will take care of it.
But it was too much. The emotions—mine and everyone else’s—overwhelmed me. My wall I kept so carefully in place crumbled. The thoughts came crashing in, wave after wave beating at my mind, swirling and tumbling about, pulling me under. I couldn’t distinguish thoughts from spoken words, let alone specific voices, except those I was most familiar with.
“Give them two years.”
“Too long. One year.”
“No, six months.”
“There are other possibilities to consider, too.”
“Not Tristan. Never right. Shouldn’t be here. Owen . . . the right mate.”
I gulped for air. My heart raced. I had no idea what thoughts Rina could hear or if she totally depended on me, but I was failing. A silent scream to her or Tristan or Owen that I needed help clawed at my mind, but I held it back, afraid I’d lose control and everyone would “hear” me, ruining everything.
“We do not need deadlines or other possibilities,” Rina said. “Tristan and Alexis are supposed to be together, their souls are made for each other. We must trust the Angels. They have told me there will be a daughter after Alexis.”
“I feel that truth. Tristan and Alexis have a daughter in their future,” Mom added.
“Not good enough. We need a daughter now!”
“We must take this into our own hands.”
“Stupid women. Basing everything on their feelings and non-existent messages from the Angels. Of course Alexis won’t get pregnant. We already have the girl. We just need to keep her hidden a little longer . . .”
Chapter 3
I gasped, choking on a swelling rage. My eyes burned with angry tears, and my throat constricted. The words ricocheted around my mind like an angry wasp desperate to find its way out. “We already have the girl. We already have the girl.” I gripped my chair tightly, trying in vain to control the tremors racking my body. Trying to control the urge to jump to my feet and demand answers. But I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t even acknowledge the words. I had to bear the sting each time they hit me.
Tristan laid his hand on mine, and I took his and squeezed it hard. I couldn’t breathe. My vision swam. I have to get out of here. Now! I knew there was a way to escape, but the how wasn’t coming to mind. My brain lost all function as it remained stuck on those five words. I looked at Tristan with desperation. He nodded and took me in his arms. The air whooshed out of my lungs, and the meeting room disappeared.
We appeared in our suite at the mansion, and I sucked in a lungful of oxygen and fell to my knees. My heart still raced, and my body still shook. And my mind still reeled.
“Holy . . . shit,” I whispered between pants. “Holy. Shit.”
Tristan sat on the bed in front of me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and studied my face.
“You heard something?” he asked. I nodded, slowly, my eyes bugging. “What?”
We already have the girl. The words echoed in my head.
Before I could share them, though, a pop came from the sitting room. I froze. What had we left behind? I’d lost all control at the end. I might have shared everything I’d been hearing with everyone else. If whoever had blocked Rina—the traitor—knew I’d heard that thought and came after me . . . but no. Tristan didn’t hear what I heard. And I recognized the familiar scent in the front room.