Sheltered Roots

by Jeanne Allen

  My inner thoughts must be showing again, because Jin gives me that special look he has, the get-it-together stare he usually reserves for Lucas. I straighten my features and ignore the entrance, focusing on the task at hand. The guard at the entrance stops us from walking through the door.

  “IDs,” he grunts out.

  Jackson and Jin hand over theirs, and I wait until the balding giant of a man looks them over before I give mine.

  The bouncer grunts at me and takes a good, long look at me in the little red skirt and flowy black top I put on right before we left. Jin grabs my ID from Pervy Eyes before he can hand it back to me. Pervy McGee looks ready to say something, but the words dry up when both Jin and Jackson inch closer to me.

  “Have a good night,” he mumbles instead.

  I flash him my best up-your-cheese-hole smile and say, “You, too.” Then, I’m pulled into the bar by a disgruntled-looking Prince.

  Once inside, Jackson leaves me with Jin while he goes to locate our contact.

  It’s a pretty big place; not the dingy little hole I thought we’d be meeting in. I pictured some dark, smoky corner filled with seedy characters, but this place is smoke-free and filled with twenty-somethings trying to talk-shout over the blaring pop music.

  “Don’t wear that skirt again,” Jin mutters

  “Don’t like it?” I peer down. While a bit short and tight, I feel badass in it. The Rose of a few months ago would never wear something like this, but my clothing choices have grown more daring along with my personality.

  Jin takes a long look at my legs before saying in that soft, sexy voice he uses only with me. “Precious, I love the skirt. I packed the skirt hoping you’d wear it. The skirt is making me want to do things to you you’re not ready for.”

  My heart skips a beat at his words.

  Heat simmers in his dark eyes. “But I’m not the only one appreciating those gorgeous legs of yours. Half the men in here can’t take their eyes off of you, which makes me want to do bad things to them, and not the same variety of bad things I want to do to you.”

  I shouldn’t smile at the mention of my boyfriend using violence to defend my honor, but there’s something so endearing about the possessive way he looks at me and the hand that’s found its way to my hip. His He-Man act is a bit primitive, but so is the reaction happening in my lower belly.

  I smile slyly and give him a taste of his own medicine by winking.

  Before he can retaliate, Jackson returns from his walk around the bar. “Found him.”

  He grabs my hand and tugs me toward the back.

  Jin follows. He’s gone into Elite mode. Tension comes off him as he scans for threats.

  Jackson leads us into a connected room at the back. It’s quieter here, and there are more tables. At one of these tables, in the farthest corner from the door, sits an achingly beautiful man.

  Even for the Phósopoi, he’s above average, which says something, since the average Phósopoi can give the Hadids a run for their money. He has the same kind of super perfect features as a Ken doll, but instead of appearing plastic-y like Lewis did, he looks angelic. I study his flawless jawline and hair the color of gold. Softer looking than even Jin’s, it curls slightly, long enough to frame his face in a kind of hair-halo. It doesn’t make him appear feminine, though. For through all his grace and beauty, he still gives off a masculine air, maybe because of the muscles that strain against the white short-sleeve button-up he wears.

  He waits patiently for us to join him.

  After we settle into our seats, and I stop ogling, Jackson gets right to business. “I assume you know why we’re here?”

  Mr. Shady nods, but his eyes fix on me. He hasn’t said a word since we walked over, but he keeps staring at me, his soft brown eyes wide and awed, though I can’t fathom why.

  “Can I hold your hand?” he asks me softly. His voice holds a slight accent, but I can’t place the origin.

  I look over at Jackson, freaked out. He can’t be—

  “You only have Six Kladí, Rose,” Jackson reassures me. “It’s okay. I have a feeling I know what this is about.”

  At Jackson’s encouraging words, Jin stiffens next to me.

  I ignore him, too curious to back out now. I stretch out my hand, which Mr. Shady-Angel grabs right away. As soon as he does, tears start to stream down his cheeks. Even crying, he still looks beautiful. Girls everywhere are waving waterproof mascara wands in fury.

  “It’s true,” he whispers.

  “Wha—” I begin to ask, but he rambles on.

  “I thought it might be, but I wasn’t sure. I had to be sure.”

  About to ask what the cheesemuffins is going on, Jin interrupts. “Bloodline Reader.” He says it almost like an accusation, but when I glance over, his expression is simply contemplative.

  “Yes,” the man answers, releasing my hand and straightening. He takes a napkin from the dispenser on the table and wipes his eyes.

  Still pretty. I’m a little bitter now. When he finishes, he doesn’t appear as awed as he did before. His eyes hold softness now. Mary used to look at me with those eyes.

  Who is this guy?

  “What can you tell us?” Jackson asks.

  In my peripheral vision, I notice him lean forward, more eager than I’ve ever seen him.

  He lifts a hand. “Before I answer, perhaps I should explain to Rose about my Gift.”

  So, he’s a Kladí. I should have realized that when we walked in, but his face distracted me.

  Jackson must give his agreement, because Mr. Shady continues. “I’m what they call a Bloodline Reader, as your Assassin pointed out. My Gift is small and not very useful except in certain situations.”

  My brain finally kicks in, and I have a feeling I know where this is going. My hands tingle, and my neck grows hot and sweaty, sure signs of my apprehension and stress. Leaning forward like my Prince, I strain to hear every lilting word.

  “My Gift is the ability to trace the bloodline of those I touch. I can tell who one’s family is going back generations. I can also see the power-level and potential of those I come in contact with.”

  The guys already know how powerful I am so—

  “I know who your family is, Rose.”

  A buzzing sound fills my ears. Where is it coming from? My head feels hot and dizzy. I’m two seconds from a full-blown meltdown, but then arms curl around me. Lavender and honey; the scent of Jin’s shampoo. No one dares to tell the Assassin it’s kind of a girly smell. I love it. Just as I love the long, silky hair that falls around us like pools of ink. The feel of his arms and his smell calms me, allowing me to breathe again.

  When I try to straighten, Jin holds me close for another second. “You okay?”

  “I need to know,” I reply.

  I feel him nod, then he lets me up.

  Forest-green eyes latch on to mine, concern filling them to overflowing.

  Smiling as best as I can, I give Jackson a small nod. He looks ready to put a stop to the whole thing and cart me off to somewhere where he can assess my mental well-being. Hard to get all of that from one look, but I know my Prince. And he knows me; I wouldn’t face the Maury-Kladí if I didn’t think I could handle it. So, he concedes.

  Mr. Shady smiles at me, and I almost forget what’s going on, it’s that beautiful. But then he ruins it by continuing his spiel. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Yes.” I’m firm this time, no sweaty neck or tingling hands. Just a slowly growing sense of anticipation.

  “Well, let’s start with the fact that you’re a Royal.”

  None of us show any surprise. The guys already figured out that much.

  “Knew that already? Well, okay. Your family name is Löfgren. It’s the ruling family of Region Eleven.”

  “The Norwegian Region?” I had been paying attention in class.

  “Yes, among other territories, including Sweden, the Netherlands, Denmark, and much of Northern Europe.”

  “So, my
mom or dad was Norse? Explains the hair.” I’m borrowing some of Lucas’s Goblin magic to lighten the mood. Though I can’t come close to his special brand of mischief, it helps my Kladí to relax.

  And I swear, Mr. Shady looks grateful when he smiles and nods. “Your mother and father both were. The rest might be hard to hear. We can stop now, if you’d like.”

  Was I ready to hear, after all these years, the identity of the people who left me in a hospital in St. Paul when I was only a week old? No, not really, but a large part of me needs to know. I can’t walk away from this half-truth. I motion him to continue.

  “Your mother, Greta, was Queen before she died in childbirth twenty-one years ago. Her infant daughter also died within minutes of being born.”

  “I don’t understand. If she died, and the baby died, then how—”

  “What people outside of the family do not know is that Greta was carrying twins. Identical girls. One disappeared that day and Lars, her brother, covered it up.”

  I’m stunned. I have an uncle. My mother didn’t abandon me. My breath comes in short gasps again, but I don’t want him to stop now. I need to hear the rest of this tale. There’s still one player unaccounted for.

  “My fa—” I clear my throat of the encroaching tears. “My father?” I barely manage to get it out before my throat closes completely.

  Silently, Jackson and Jin claim a hand. Jackson holds his gently in his lap, stroking the area between my thumb and pointer finger in slow, soothing, circles. Jin holds my hand tightly, encapsulating it with his long, elegant fingers.

  I look up as that soft, accented voice starts speaking, a single tear making its way down his face. “Your father found Greta, your sister, and her Kladí dead. One of your mother’s Kladí died when she did, execution by his Gift, but the other Kladí was murdered. Your father knew something was wrong. The deaths of all three were too suspect, so he gave you to a trusted friend to hide and escaped himself. Many Gifts can open the mind for its secrets, so he chose to be unaware of where the friend left you. He only hoped…” He stops, seemingly unable to voice the last part of this strange story, my history. He looks at me with so much tenderness that my heart breaks with the force of it.

  “He only hoped he would be able to find you again, when the time was right.”

  No one says anything. The weight of the tale being spun sits heavily on all of us.

  Finally, I find my courage. “Who are you?”

  Chapter 7

  “I suppose it’s time for an introduction.” He reaches out, and I detangle myself from my Kladí to hold his hands. “My name is Alexander Sjoberg. I am your father, Rose, and I am so, so glad to finally meet you.”

  I stare into those golden eyes, trying to find myself in them. Impossible. “But if you’re my father, then you were my mother’s Kladí. How did you survive?”

  The boys told me that, once Bonded, the Kladí always died with their Agora. I hadn’t heard of a way to survive it. I glance over at Jackson, who pulls a Jin and gives me nothing. I can’t see what he’s thinking, but I get the feeling he already knows the answer.

  With a huff, I turn back to Alexander, still too weirded out to refer to this man as my father because, even in my head, he looks like he could be my older brother.

  Alexander looks uncomfortable, but he sighs and answers my question, his shoulders tense as if saying the words is painful. “I wasn’t your mother’s Kladí. I was her Knight. Greta only had two Kladí, though Jonathon and Mhened were powerful enough to make up for it.”

  His explanation utterly confuses me, unraveling everything the boys drilled into my head since I first stumbled upon Professor Evans nearly a year ago. “How is that possible? I thought the whole point of the Omás was to be a family, and isn’t it impossible to have children outside of the Kladí and Agora?”

  Alexander pales and looks pleadingly at Jackson. If having this dropped on me so suddenly hadn’t freaked me out, I’d find it funny how uncomfortable this conversation makes him, like a father giving his daughter the sex talk.

  Which, I guess, he is.

  Jackson takes pity on him. “It’s not biologically impossible, but it is rare as Agoras almost never seek partnership outside of their fated Kladí.”

  “Well, obviously, it’s not impossible; I’m right here.” I snap, getting annoyed with the roundabout way they’re explaining this. I abandon the gentlemen for my Assassin. “Explain the simplified version,” I order.

  Jin’s dark eyes reveal a hint of amusement as he complies. “It’s biologically possible to procreate outside the Omás, but not until after the Agora has Bonded.”

  I glance at Alexander, who nods, his eyes dulling with a mix of emotions I can’t decipher fully, but there’s a strong sadness there.

  “Did they, did Jonathon and Mhened, know?” I can’t help the bitterness flavoring my question.

  I can’t believe my mother would have relations with someone who wasn’t her Kladí. I know humans do it all the time, but now that I’ve felt even a small amount of the Bond between Phósopoi soulmates, I can’t imagine desiring anyone else for as long as I live, even if I lived for centuries.

  “Yes. Jonathon is the one who pushed us to have a child.” Alexander’s eyes dull more than their earlier brilliance as he stares over our shoulders at his memories.

  “So, you… What? Decided to take one for the team?” I’ve never heard myself use such a shrill voice, but I guess I put more stock into what I thought my parents would be like than I thought.

  “No, no. Älskling, please listen.” Alexander snaps out of his daydreams to reach for my hands again.

  I let him take them, noticing for the first time that our skin is the exact same pearly-white tone. Maybe we do have something in common, after all.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not doing a good job explaining this. I have dreamt about seeing your face in person for so long, about touching these hands, and I’m afraid you’re not seeing me at my best right now.” He strokes my hand, seemingly as mesmerized as I am by the similarities with his own. After a moment, he says, “Let me start again, from the beginning this time.”

  And so, he begins, and for the second time in less than a year, I hear a strange tale that challenges everything I knew about life and its outcomes.

  “I met your mother when she was a child. I had already lost my Agora before I could Bond with her, so I hired myself out as a Knight to any Royal who would have me. To be honest, I was hoping to be sent to war. I wanted to die. A Kladí without their Agora is like an empty shell.”

  “War?”

  “Yes, this was a long time ago, back when the Regions and the Royals who ruled them were not as peaceful as they are today. Wars and border scrimmages were common back then.”

  I nod, not understanding but not willing to prolong this explanation further.

  “I was assigned to the Löfgren family, much to my chagrin, since they were mostly peaceful. They were well-loved by their people, and even most of the other Royals seemed to have a soft spot for the Region Eleven Monarchs. It should have been an easy assignment, guarding a five-year-old Princess. I remember the first time I saw her. Hair like gold, eyes the color of the summer sky.”

  He smirks, and something begins to twinkle in his eyes. “She looked like an angel, but she was anything but. Greta was a handful from day one. The same day I took the assignment, she used her Will to convince the gatemen and her guards to let her out of the palace grounds. She eluded me and the other family Knights for three full days. We never could figure out how she survived.”

  I feel the beginning of my own smirk as I listen. I had a proclivity for hiding away as a child, too.

  Alexander notices and squeezes my hands. “I eventually found her, deep in the forest, covered in mud but happy as a bluebird on a Sunday morning. She was sitting at the base of this giant oak playing with what I could only describe as pure Agora Power. It was so beautiful and mesmerizing I’m embarrassed to say even a seas
oned warrior as myself was enraptured.”

  I slide my eyes over to share a look with Jackson.

  He responds by raising his eyebrows. I guess we found out where I got that ability from.

  Alexander either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore our silent communication. “When she noticed me standing there, she simply looked up and offered a smile of pure joy. I knew right then your mother was special. Not just because she was powerful, though she grew to be one of the most—if not the most, powerful Agora I have ever met in my long life—but because she was sunshine, shining on anyone lucky enough to be in her presence. She was sunshine in my life and in the lives of many others until the day she was taken from us.” Alexander stops, ghosts in his eyes; my mother haunts him even now.

  He takes a breath before forcing himself to continue. “When my contract was up after five years, I petitioned for a permanent position. By then, the Princess had grown fond of me, so I was accepted and assigned as Head of her personal Guard, where I remained until the day she died.”

  My brow furrows; some things aren’t adding up. “But how are you my father and not Jonathon or Mhened?”

  “The answer to that is rather complicated, but I’ll try my best to explain. You deserve that much. When your mother was twenty-two-years-old, she met her Kladí Jonathon, a strong warrior from the Bridgewell clan. Soon after, Mhened, a noble from Region Nine, arrived. I was overjoyed for them and became close to Jonathon as we worked together to protect your mother. We had a happy partnership. Greta was not close with her younger brother or her parents. I had become an older brother, an authority figure of sorts, for the Princess, and as the years went on, I became a good friend of both Mhened and Jonathon.”

  The inside of my mouth grows dry. I can’t seem to swallow enough to get rid of the acrid taste. I know things are different for the Phósopoi who live long and stay young as they age, but my human brain can’t seem to fathom the narrative being presented to me.