Secrets [5] Echoes: Part One (39 page)

As hormones and instinct would have a girl do, I stood back and watched him for a moment, seeing a future there—with David and a small child. It just confirmed for me again that, no matter what he’d said to me in anger, he would love our little girl. There wouldn't be a betrayal I could commit in this world that would stop him. Not once he saw her, held her.

“Did you hear from Mike?”

“I did.” He opened the book and showed Tom a picture.

“You heard they’re staying out for the night?”

“I did.”

“Are you okay with that?” I walked over and sat down on the ground across from him, Tom between us.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“I dunno.” I shrugged. Guess I figured he’d be more protective of Pepper. “Have you spoken to Pepper since she went back to being Sara?”

He nodded, sniffing once. “She had no idea who I was.”

“And … how does that make you feel?” I asked, but I felt like he was about to get up and walk away any second now if I didn't shut up and stop asking questions like an annoying teen.

Tom made more noise than David then, babbling about the blue duck on the page, while David seemed to be gathering his thoughts.

“To be honest,” he finally said, “it’s a relief.”

I turned over a page for Tom. “Do you still … when you see her, does it take you back to the memories of what she suffered?”

David became very clearly stiff, closing his eyes, not even trying to block the horrors of those memories from me. He knew I’d seen them before, and I could feel that he was sorry for that—for the fact that I’d been to his dark world, but I think he and I shared a small pang of relief that he wasn’t alone in there anymore. “It will be my eternal punishment for letting that happen to her. But I’m glad she’s forgotten.”

I wanted to reach out and take his hand—tell him not to think that way, but neither my touch nor my words would reach him. He needed to punish himself, because he suffered her tortures just as badly as she did, in many ways, and holding on to that would, somehow, absolve him of the guilt. “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

“I know.”

“Then you shouldn't be left alone in the dungeon of blame.”

“I know.”

Tom yawned, tipping back a little, breaking the tension. David held his hand out to catch the toddler if he toppled over, but he steadied himself with a renewed interest in the storybook.

“We should get him to bed.” I showed David my watch. “Dinner will be served in ten minutes.”

“Okay.” He drew the book from Tom’s hands and mapped out a path in his mind to fly the little guy like an aeroplane into bed.

“It’ll excite him too much, you know,” I said.

“What?”

“Flying him into bed.”

“He likes it.”

“Yes, but then Clara has a hard time getting him settled.” I motioned behind me to the old lady snoozing in the rocking chair.

“Sounds like
her
problem,” he whispered with a sparkle in his eye.

I just shook my head, smiling.

“It’s not something I ever wanted, you know,” he said softly, looking up to add, “Openly wanted, anyway.”

I knew only by the elaboration in his thoughts as he looked at Tom again what he meant: “Kids?”

The nod he gave answered my question politely enough, but his averted eyes kept him well and truly outside of this conversation.

“What do you mean by ‘openly wanted’?” I asked.

Bricks of hesitation built an emotional wall for him to hide behind, but his words came out past it, shocking me a little. “This prophecy—the supposed need for us to conceive a child that could kill a tyrant made it okay to want it, in some strange way.”

“To want a child?”

“Mm.” He moved his head in a yes.

“Like, as in you didn't have to admit that you were actually okay with it? Maybe even looking forward to being a dad?”

He smirked before his eyes finally met mine, the warmth and softness staying there even as the cold need for denial rose between us, thinning the air. “Maybe.”

“It makes you vulnerable. I get that.” I looked away this time to give him space.

“What does?”

“Admitting to something so human as wanting to be a dad. It inadvertently shows the world that you have a heart.” I paused a second to let him protest—say he didn't want it, that I’d forced it on him by not being powerful enough to kill Drake on my own, or something like that. But he didn’t. So I continued. “And I know that sweet, softer side is something you've fought all your life to hide.” I also knew why—knew that in a house of two boys raised by one lonely, angry father, there was no room for emotion. No room for a heart. If he let himself feel hope, love—for anything—he let his guard down. And being hurt too many times by cruelty was enough to stop anyone deconstructing walls that protected the most vulnerable part inside.

“I like that,” he said out of nowhere.

“Like what?”

“That you get me.” He toyed with a wisp of raised carpet pile, laying there on his side, all long and solid, taking up more space than the tiny child between us, but seeming so much smaller at the same time. “I feel like I need to explain myself to you sometimes—so you don’t think of me as cold and … cruel, but that feeling is always overshadowed by your uncanny ability to see right through me.”

I offered a smile, even though he wouldn't look at me to see it. “You’re happy then?”

His eyes hinted a moment of confusion until they swept past the obvious placement of my hand across my belly. And he nodded. Acknowledging nothing any greater than a simple acceptance of the life we’d both created. A gesture so simple it should have been followed by nothing other than a small smile from me, but accompanied by so much weight and so much joy at the same time that my eyes watered instead, forcing him to look away.

“I’m sorry,” I said, whipping my hand up my face to remove the evidence. “I didn’t mean to get all emotional.”

“Ara?” He said my name so gently I didn't dare to look back at him, knowing it would open me up, show him inside my soul. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For ever making you feel like this isn’t what I wanted.” He motioned to our baby. “I promise, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you both.”

I tried to smile, but my whole body just wanted to cry. “David, I—”

“Evening, Ara. David.” Katy bowed slightly as she walked in, hugging a stack of files.

David and I both broke apart, and despite not being close, the obvious shift in our positions made it feel as though we’d been sitting nose to nose.

“What’s up, Ara? You look like you’ve been crying,” Katy added casually. I could tell she still wasn’t all that adjusted to the idea of a king and queen, and since she mostly worked down here with the children, I didn’t mind her negligence toward formalities—including calling us by our first names. But David did. I could see it in his eyes when he looked up at her. He didn't tell her to address him as her Lord and superior, though. He just smiled and made his jaw tight.

“Ara’s fine,” he said coldly.

And Katy sensed that chill, making a quick retreat. “Good. Okay. Gotta fly.”

“Hey, um, Katy?” I jumped up and moved after her at a bit of a human run.

She stopped by the nursery exit. “Mm?”

“I noticed Max is still in the secure wing.”

“Yes.”

“But he’s human now—has been for ages. Why’s he still—”

“It was at the request of his hopefully soon-to-be father.”

“Huh?”

“Someone’s put in an application to adopt Max and Josh—”

“Oh my God, really?” I jumped on the spot. “That’s so great! Is it a nice couple?”

“Um, no.” She stepped back from the door. “It’s just one man, actually.”

“A single guy?”

She nodded. “His chances of being approved are pretty slim in all honesty, but, for now, until he gets word, he’s asked us to keep Josh and Max together in the secure wing.”

“Why?”

“He’s not convinced it’s totally safe for them out here with vampires for guards.”

“But—”

“I know.” She smiled, bowing her head. “But there was no convincing him. He wants them safe and—” She shrugged. “What could I say to that?”

“Okay.” I took a few steps back to let her pass. “When will we know if he’s got approval to adopt?”

“End of next week, hopefully.”

“Okay, well, keep me posted,” I called.

Katy turned back and nodded as she left the room.

“Did you know about this?” I asked David.

His lips pursed, eyes shrinking first then looking off to one side, but he shook his head, clearly deciding finally that a lie was better than the truth.

“What aren't you telling me?” I sat back down on the rug next to him.

“This person wants to come to you with it himself.”

“Okay.” I nodded, scooping Tom up into my lap. “I can respect that. But I’m really anxious to know.”

He reached over and rubbed my arm softly. “Don’t be. The boys’ll be in very good hands.”

As that last word rolled from his full lips, we both looked down at
his
very good hand—on my arm. And he dropped it, clearing his throat for the tenth time today.

“We better get Tom to bed,” he said.

***

David may have opened up a side to himself last night that gave me hope, but around everyone else at both dinner and the House meeting that followed he returned to his usual me-hating self. He just seemed stiffer and somewhat withdrawn, leaving me feeling, by the time I went to bed last night, on edge and kind of drained.

No one else noticed the difference, though. How could they? They hadn’t seen the side that David showed me when we were alone, so they certainly wouldn't understand just how shattered I was now after he called me a useless twit at breakfast and made me the punchline to a rather nasty joke about brown hair and artificial intelligence that the
entire
room laughed at. They thought it was all in fun. But it wasn’t. He meant to hurt me, and he even watched my face as he did to be sure it cut me as deep as possible.

I got up and left.

When I was sure no one would be around, I came out of hiding and, twisting my new talisman between my thumb and forefinger absently, I scurried across the Throne Room floor toward the back doors. Today was another of those ‘uneventful’ days, with me being left to entertain myself while everyone else had jobs to do. Being queen was fast becoming a very boring occupation. Boring enough that when my phone rang, it could have been a telemarketer and I’d have been happy to answer.

“Hello?” I said to the unidentified caller.

“Amara.”

“Drake!”

“How have you been?” he asked casually.

“Um. Well, thank you,” I said, ducking in to the shadows by the wall. “Not to sound rude, but … why are you calling?”

“I call to check in on my niece and her unborn child. Is there anything wrong with that?”

“Yes! You lied to me, Drake. You promised me eighteen years with my daughter, but you had no intentions of letting me live. I’m furious with you—”

“What makes you think I lied?”

“You didn’t bind the promise in blood.”

He was silent for a moment. “Amara, there is a good reason for that. But I assure you I am nothing if not a man of my word.”

“Then why didn’t you bind the promise?”

He exhaled. “Morgana.”

“What’s she got to do with it?”

“She has been promised the return of her mother. You know that. If she believes for even a second that I mean to delay fulfilling that promise, she may seek to hurt you or the child.”

“So she thinks you mean to kill me once the baby’s born?”

“That is correct. But I swear to you, young queen, with all my heart, that it is my honour and my wish to let you live. If it will ease your mind, we can swear by blood in secret, but she must never find out.”

My heart stopped thudding in my throat and my shoulders relaxed. “I want to, then. I want assurance.”

“Then consider it done. I will come to you next week.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Amara. But please do not sound so surprised. I am not an entirely cruel man. I do care for you, and for David, and were it not for the promise I made my own sister, I would leave you alive eternally. But my oath is first to her.”

“I understand that.” I nodded.

“I know you do. But I want you to know also that it does not bring me pleasure to see my family suffer. After everything you’ve been through in pursuit of my dreams, I feel I owe you a few happy years and I
will not
retract my vow, Amara.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“However, to that end, there is one thing I feel I must discuss.”

“What?”