Soon, he would hold the key.
Soon, his sanctuary would be his again.
He rapped on the door and was ushered in by a secretary with downcast eyes and shown to the stairs. “I know the way, thank you,” he said in French and the secretary inclined his head, then vanished into an office on the main floor.
He tapped once on the door of the office and heard the lawyer’s invitation from inside. He opened the door with a flourish and a smile, only to freeze in astonishment.
The lawyer was there, of course, standing behind the desk every lawyer in her family had used, the walls behind her thick with books bound in leather. She was impeccably groomed as always, dressed in a dark suit, her hair twisted up, tasteful small diamonds at her earlobes. The bottle of brandy was on a small table before the fireplace, but there were three glasses on the tray, the cut crystal catching the firelight.
And Sylvia rose from her seat beside the fire. She looked a bit tired and was dressed more casually than the lawyer. But she smiled at him and Sebastian found himself in awe of her presence.
“I brought the key,” she said as the lawyer watched. “Micah preferred a courier for such a precious item and I volunteered.”
She held out the antique gold key and Sebastian stared at it. “You shouldn’t have,” he said, hearing that his tone was brusque.
She laughed a little. “No, probably not, but I couldn’t resist the temptation.”
“You’ve done quite well resisting it in the past.”
“Time for a change.”
He met Sylvia’s gaze and was surprised to find her eyes filled with confidence. He wondered how much the lawyer understood: her expression was impassive but he knew she was bilingual.
“Show me your library?” Sylvia asked.
Sebastian frowned and glanced toward the fire.
“It must be very special,” she continued softly. “I love libraries. You know that. And I’ve come all this way.”
He moved closer to her, risking the alluring scent of her and his own temptation. “You have to understand that I don’t play by Micah’s rules anymore.”
Sylvia’s smile broadened. “But that’s why I volunteered,” she confessed. He stared at her, amazed that she knew what he was and who he was, yet had come anyway.
He reached for the key, but she withdrew it. “I want your promise that we’re done with games and riddles. I want to know the truth, all of it.”
“The truth always comes at a price,” he warned her.
“Of course. And I suspect it might take a long time to share this particular truth.” She held out the key, her eyes filled with a wisdom that hadn’t been there when they’d met and he knew that she was prepared for whatever he might show her. He still felt protective of her, but he welcomed the prospect of companionship. “Maybe centuries.”
And there it was. He might turn her, but she recognized that and had come to terms with it. Maybe she even welcomed it.
Sebastian frowned. “You can’t change your mind about something like this, you know.”
“I know. But I need a tutor, and I think you might be the perfect one.” She held his gaze and he heard an ancient name echo in her thoughts, a name he’d never expected to be openly associated with him again. Semyaza.
She knew. The magick had betrayed him somehow, just as he’d guessed it always would.
But Sylvia knew the truth and she’d chosen him.
And that meant the responsibility for her fate wasn’t entirely his own. Sebastian smiled, unable to disguise the pleasure he felt, then lifted the key from her grasp. “We could go there now.”
“Yes,” she said simply and he closed one hand over the key as he put it in his pocket. He held it there, so glad to have it in his possession again. Then he took Sylvia’s hand in his, ensuring that he controlled his strength. He inclined his head to the lawyer and thanked her, then made a future appointment to review several investments.
The brandy would wait.
His step was light when he and Sylvia stepped into the street together, and Paris sparkled all around them, as filled with promise as a glass of champagne.
“You’re sure?” he asked and Sylvia nodded.
“You have a private library,” she confessed with a smile, her gaze dancing over him.
“Your ulterior motive,” he teased. “You want to catalogue my collection.”
“More than that. I want to be with you, Sebastian, in every way. I want to hear all of your story. I want you to teach me everything you know.” Her smile turned mischievous. “But we can read when we don’t have anything else to do.”
And, much to his own surprise, the prospect of that adventure suited Sebastian just fine.
Days and nights passed without a word from Rania’s brothers. Rania and Hadrian had chosen to remain in Iceland in the hope that they might appear there. Each night, while Rania slept, Hadrian went outside the cottage and looked at the sky overhead. He’d checked in with the Pyr and had been relieved that they were okay. Alasdair had taken Yasmina to his lair in Scotland, and didn’t want to be disturbed. Kade had been delivered to Drake for instruction and review. Rhys and Kristofer had retreated to their respective lairs, and Theo was helping out at the Circus of Wonders as they rebuilt.
Hadrian was glad to be alone with Rania for the moment.
Each night, he shifted shape and coiled himself around the cottage in his dragon form, his chin resting on his tail just outside the front door. He could watch the opening in the outer wall from there. Usually, Rania joined him, curling into his claw, telling him stories of all she’d seen and done over the centuries, or just being with him.
It was idyllic, with the exception of Rania’s concern for her brothers.
The Pyr were planning to gather on the solstice for Hadrian’s scale repair, so Rania and Hadrian returned to Northumberland before going to Vermont. On their first morning back at his lair, Hadrian heard a man whistling. It was snowing lightly and the wind was up. The snow had started to fall in the early hours of the morning and it was gathering in the trees. Rania was sleeping deeply beside him and Hadrian was watching the snow fall over the stream. At the sound of the whistle, he felt himself shimmering on the cusp of change, but slipped from the bed and went to the door.
A man was approaching the lair with purpose. He was blond and tall, a handsome man of maybe thirty years of age.
Hadrian opened the door to greet him and the man smiled. “Hadrian!” he said, as if they were old friends, and strode forward with his hand extended. “How’s Rania? Is her pregnancy going well?”
“Edred,” Hadrian guessed and the new arrival laughed.
“I forgot you wouldn’t know, and the big clue is still behind me.” He grinned and rolled his eyes. “Lazy bunch of brothers.”
Hadrian heard footsteps then and men calling. In moments, he was surrounded by twelve good-looking young men, all healthy and all with the same clear blue eyes as Rania. Each one, when he looked closely, had a mark on his left wrist, as if something had burned the skin. Rania was obviously awakened by their arrival and came out to be greeted with joy, hugged and kissed and lifted off her feet. She was passed from brother to brother despite her protests then surrendered to Hadrian again.