by Jeanne Allen
You’re not just hungry, the back-of-my-mind voice scolds, and I have to agree. My stomach clenches almost painfully, but not with hunger.
Following my instincts—or, rather, my nose—I head to the end of the hallway where a large archway blends into the wall. Through it, I glimpse a large state-of-the-art kitchen, a gorgeous oak dining table with space for what looks like twenty guests, and a few comfortable looking chairs near large windows that look out over the busy street below.
The windows give me pause for a second, since “safe house” and “large bay windows” don’t appear to be congruent words. After a second look, an involuntary gasp breaks from me as I realize the scene through the windows is played on a loop, like a television screen, but so realistic I wouldn’t have guessed it if I hadn’t seen the loop myself.
Probably Gift-made. It amazes me how intricate and varied the Gifts have become since Kin’s first children.
But the windows aren’t what I came to the kitchen for. Neither is the steaming pot of coffee or basket of what looks to be freshly made muffins. No, I came for the man sitting at the small breakfast table set in the corner where the archway meets the wall.
Alexander watches me carefully, the tight grip of his hands on the newspaper he holds before him the only indication he feels as uncertain as I do with our family reunion.
“Hello,” I say softly, taking a step in his direction.
Before he has a chance to respond, I turn around and head toward the muffins and coffee. If our chat is going to be as awkward as these first few minutes have been, I’m going to need fortification to keep from jumping out that fake window.
Moments later, loaded with two muffins—because nobody should have to decide between blueberry and chocolate this early in the morning—and a mug of coffee, I sit across the table from my father.
Alexander looks far more relaxed than he did when I first came into the room. “Nobody should have to decide between chocolate and blueberry this early in the morning,” he says.
I practically feel my eyebrows push into my hairline at his words. Shaking slightly, I put my plate and mug on the table before I spill everything. Searching Alexander’s eyes, I find no hint of smug amusement or acknowledgment that he stole that joke from my thoughts. The laughter in his eyes seems subdued and hesitant, and it bleeds out the longer I go without saying anything in response.
“Uh, yeah,” I mumble. Clearing my throat, I try again. “Sorry, I just had that exact same thought. and I worried for a second you were a mind reader or something, which is dumb since I know what your Gift is. You used it when we first met.”
This time, the laughter is far more robust in those honey eyes and is accompanied by a soft chuckle. “No, you’re right. I don’t have a Mind-Reading Gift. It would be a useful one to have, to be sure. But I often think it’s better that it’s so rare. Some thoughts should remain private, no matter the occasion.”
I nod slowly, agreeing. Lucas can read my emotions and Sebastian can read my intentions, and though they don’t do it on purpose unless I give permission, it still weirds me out sometimes that they can. I’m so glad none of my Kladí can read minds.
“You look so much like—” Alexander’s soft accent, what I now recognize as a Swedish lilt, becomes more pronounced as he catches himself before he continues. “Like your mother. It’s nice to know we share in our humor, at least.”
“At least,” I echo before turning to my muffins and Alexander to his newspaper.
I’m beginning to suspect, while I look like a Löfgren, my personality came from the Sjoberg side of my parentage.
Seconds drag on, turning into minutes as we exist in silence. Father and daughter, neither one comfortable enough to make even idle conversation. Our first meeting had been so emotional, but afterward, I was so busy and, frankly, unsure of how to speak with the man I didn’t reach out to. He stopped trying to talk to me after the first few times I denied him.
But now he’s here, and I can’t ignore him any longer.
As if sensing my thoughts, Alexander folds his newspaper and sets it on the table, smoothing out the edges before looking up to consider me. His eyes are serious yet tinged with a warmth I find more unsettling than comforting. I’m not used to familial affection. I’d much rather Alexander were mean, or at least indifferent.
That way I could hate him and be done with this whole thing.
Again, with eerie perceptiveness, Alexander speaks my thoughts. “I don’t expect you to jump into a familial relationship with me, daughter. I made that decision for both of us when I sent you away.”
I frown at his choice of words, putting down my muffin to give him my full attention.
That’s what’s been bothering me. That I was never given the chance to have a family. My whole life, I’ve felt unwanted. All the while, Alexander was out there, alive and well, but not with me. I’m a little surprised he figured out why I’m holding back from connecting with him.
“I didn’t come all this way to force you to open your heart to me. That’s something I fervently desire but won’t require from you until you feel inclined to reach out your hand.” He speaks so formally; it oddly puts me at ease.
Formal and logical conversation I can deal with. I nod and gesture for him to continue. If he didn’t come for family bonding, then he must have some other reason.
“I came to share what I’ve learned about the Sons of Zeus, and why they’re targeting you, though I hear you may have more insight than I do in that aspect.”
“Should I go get the guys?”
I’m halfway out of my seat as I ask, but Alexander holds out a hand to stop me. “No, sit. I arrived here at almost the same time as your Kladí and have since filled them in on what I know. I would have waited for you but felt it imperative they be prepared for what may come.”
I sit slowly, and my shoulders slump with the weight of my apprehension. I recognize the gravity in those warm honey eyes because they’re the same as mine. I’d never thought mine were as beautiful as Alexander’s, but there’s no doubt I recognize the emotions that fly through them, because I’ve seen that same pain in the mirror countless times.
Spurred by this revelation, I lean across the table to lay my hand over Alexander’s, which are clenched together on top of the table. He offers a wan smile and takes my hand. While the contact is as soothing as the first time he held my hand, I feel that the revelations he brings today won’t be as joyous as the ones he revealed in The Devil’s Moustache.
With a deep sigh, he begins. “Like I told you when we met, I only knew that the Sons of Zeus are after you. I didn’t know why or who was in the organization. Until a year ago, the group mostly eliminated a few Phósopoi here and there; not enough to garner attention but enough to keep their name relatively well-known.”
“Why?” I still couldn’t understand the reasons behind this group. If their whole mission was the subjugation of humans, why would they kill their own people? It didn’t make sense.
“The Phósopoi they target are supporters of human protection movements, those who speak against the taking of human slaves and servants and the continued secrecy of our race.”
“The Wellingtons,” I whisper.
Alexander nods, his eyes darkening for a second at the mention of Lucas and Lyle’s murdered parents. “The Wellingtons were well-known advocates for human rights and a great loss to our community. They were some of the finest Phósopoi I ever had the pleasure of knowing.”
A sharp pain hits my chest at the thought I would never meet my fabulous parents-in-law, but the obvious respect my father has for my Kladí’s family fills me with an odd sense of pride. I can’t decide if it’s pride in having soulmates from a well-liked family who were obviously righteous enough to stand for what they believed, or if the glow I feel has more to do with the approval of my father for the heritage of my partners.
“And now? you said that’s all you knew when we met,” I push.
Now that I know the S
ons of Zeus are also responsible for the murder of my Kladí’s parents, I’m all the more determined to bring them to justice.
“Yes. Well, in the last week, I’ve exhausted all of the contacts I have, and some I didn’t have. I’ve been able to find out a little more information, but not enough.” Frustration leaks into my father’s voice, making his accent even more pronounced. He stops, eyeing me for a second.
Barely holding back an eye roll, I sit back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest, matching Alexander’s judging stare for one of my own. “Tell me. Whatever it is you found out, I need to know.”
Alexander shakes his head, muttering almost to himself. “Yes, of course, of course. I know that. But you can’t blame a father for wishing he could keep his daughter from anything that might hurt her.”
As odd as it is to suddenly have a father, my heart warms at Alexander's hesitance. I’ve never had a parent worry over me like this. Mary would fuss once in a while, but she mostly let me do my own thing. The guys worry over me to the point of obsession, especially Lyle, but it’s not the same as parental concern. I push away the fuzzies to focus on what Alexander has to tell me.
“I still don’t know who’s pulling the strings of the group, other than Prince Nathanial and his Kladí of course, but I have been able to hear some chatter on why they’re after you. It seems, well, it seems that…” He stops, rubs his neck, and looks away for a second before settling himself enough to speak. “It seems their leader is under the impression your firstborn child will be very powerful. So powerful that the leader wants to make sure that child comes from his line.”
My throat goes dry. It shouldn’t be a surprise, why the Sons of Zeus are after me, but it’s still unpleasant to hear I’m being hunted as some kind of broodmare. I close my eyes and take a few breaths, pushing out the unhelpful thoughts until all that’s left are the logical conclusions.
Slipping into the same scholar mode I used when faced with news of my mutant status, I look at the facts and find that what Alexander says makes everything fall into place. Why the Keńos tried to capture, not harm, me. The first ones might have taken a bite, but I think they could have killed me before tasting. And in all our encounters since, none of the aggressors came at us with killing intent. The only ones to fall victim were those outside my Omás. Sebastian was even spared when he was found, vulnerable, in the garden.
From what the guys told me, an Agora can only have a child outside his or her Omás after Bonding and Maturing. They needed us to Bond, first. Which means the guys are in more danger now that we have, since I can now birth a child for the leader after Maturing. It also fits with what Kin told me. My guess is that Velus is either the leader of the Sons of Zeus or is pulling the strings somehow.
What I can’t figure out is what he plans to do with the child of three Kin Seeds. The child planned for and bred to destroy his creations and destroy him. I assumed he would want to kill me before the child could be born, but now I’m not so sure.
“Are we safe here?” I ask.
I have a million other questions buzzing in my brain based off these revelations, but this one seems the most immediately pertinent. If the Sons of Zeus have their claws in Region One, we would have to find somewhere else to prepare for whatever the next step is.
Alexander considers for a moment then, with an elegant shrug and apologetic tone, he admits, “I don’t know. From what I gather, the organization has mostly been seen in the other Regions so far, but I can’t be certain. The Monarch of Region One is old and paranoid. I’m not sure if this makes her more susceptible to their doctrine or less.”
I nod, mulling over our situation before pushing away those thoughts, along with my other worries. There’s nothing we can do now. We need more information, and we need to prepare for the attacks that are surely coming. My most urgent concern is to keep my guys safe. Having lost Birdie so easily to just a fraction of their organization, I know we need more allies and to develop our Bonded powers.
We haven’t talked about it yet, but I know the guys are still struggling to understand in what way their Gifts heightened after our Bonding. I still struggle to understand my Agora Power and Kin’s Gift.
We need help. That much I know.
Alexander must agree because he reaches for my hand yet again. This time, I give it to him eagerly, happy for whatever amount of comfort he can give to calm my rising panic. “I’m here. I will always be here, mina älskling. Never will I leave you alone again. You have my word, on the honor of family Sjoberg and House Löfgren.”
Though his words are formal, the tenderness in his eyes dispels any notion this is anything less than a father promising something to his daughter.
I study Alexander for a moment, taking in his stupidly pretty face and soft curls, his honey-brown eyes and long eyelashes. I still can’t see myself in him except the eyes, but somehow, my soul accepts that this man is my father. Before, I accepted this fact logically, with the brain that had gotten me through so much turmoil this last year, but now I feel my connection to this man on an almost spiritual level. Whatever his decisions in the past, I find I have it in me to trust him on this, that he’ll not leave me again.
Slowly, I nod, blinking away the tears that form at the emotion between us.
Alexander releases my hand to wipe at his own tears.
With a sigh, I realize I need to tell Alexander about Kin. I planned to eventually, but if he’s here to help us, and hopefully find others to join in our cause, then he needs to know everything we do.
With another heavy sigh, I straighten and throw my shoulders back. “Thank you for your support. I suppose it’s my turn to tell you what I know.” I wait until my father sits back in his own chair before continuing. “I should begin, I guess, with what happened after I Awakened.”
“This would be more impressive if I’d never been to your mother’s house,” I comment, staring at the enormous facade of Buckingham Palace.
Jackson laughs. “That’s true. And if you have a chance, you should see the monstrosity that houses Region One’s Monarch, or better yet, Region Ten.”
“Is it in London? The Region One Seat?” I question.
Lucas takes my arm to escort me up the long walk to the palace. We’d somehow gotten a private tour of the public palace grounds today. I don’t know how they finagled it, or how much money it cost, and I won’t ask. “Not in London, no. Though for rulings and business purposes, the Seat is near Kings Cross, in an underground labyrinth built at the same time the city was established. But the personal residence of the Monarch is to the north, near Wales.”
“Ah.” I don’t comment further.
To my embarrassment, I know nothing about the U.K. I only know a little about North Ireland from Kieran’s stories. But he and Sarah disappeared our first day in Region One, both citing personal business. Sylvia was long gone before we arrived, so it’s been just me, my guys, and my father in the safe house.
After that first morning, it was decided that Region One was relatively safe to stay in for the time being. Alexander and Jin both concurred that the Sons of Zeus’ activity was minimal in the area, plus the Monarch of Region One owes House Wellington, according to the twins, “more than she can pay back in a lifetime.”
So, we stayed in London. I got to see the sites with the guys and deepen my burgeoning relationship with Alexander, whom I’ve started to tentatively refer to as “father” even outside of my own thoughts.
Velus has also been quiet; no new attacks, though his silence is more worrying than anything. If he’s as powerful as Kin, there’s no way he doesn’t know where we are, which means he’s gearing up for something big.
A shot of warmth right above my heart startles me. I rub at the spot to dispel the weird sensation. It’s not the first time this has happened. Since coming to Region One, I’ve had a similar “strike” when thinking certain thoughts. I’ve long since figured out it’s Kin’s way of communicating with me. Each time I get the strike, it
means whatever I’m thinking or saying is on the right path.
My throat runs dry, and I move Lucas’s hand to the crook of my elbow, so I can hang onto him for a moment. My cold limbs shiver at the contact with his heated skin. If Kin also believes Velus is planning something, then it must be true.
She knows her brother better than anyone.
And yet, here we are, waltzing around the Royal Gardens in broad daylight. My eyes flit around nervously, taking in the various positions of my Kladí.
My father is gone for the day, off to talk with more of his “contacts.” He’s been nonstop trying to find us allies since that first day, and so far, we have a decent network of Pho̕sopoi growing. It seems that Alexander Sjoberg is well-known and well-liked amongst the Pho̕sopoi. And where his name doesn’t open doors, the name of his Bonded Noble, a powerful Royal from Region Eight, does the trick.
“Hey, Sweet Pea, are you okay?” Lucas detangles himself from my grip and bends to look me in the eyes, concern growing as he takes in how shaky I am.
“We shouldn’t be here,” I whisper, eyeing the open area once again.
“We explained this already. Lyle and I got permission to show you around today. The guards would have stopped us already if—”
“No. I mean, we shouldn’t be out like this. I can’t believe we’ve been so lax. You guys aren’t even worried about Velus?” I seethe. The sight of how utterly calm my chocolate-eyed Goblin is causes my worry to change into anger.
“Whoa, what’s this about?” Lucas holds up placating hands, which makes me angrier.
“You don’t even care. You don’t care about anything, Lucas.” I immediately regret my words.
Lucas’s eyes dim as he steps back, the usual twinkle nowhere to be found as he regards me. “That was uncalled for, Rose, and you know it. I care. We all care. You think we don’t take precautions? Jin hardly gets any sleep at all because he’s so obsessed with keeping you safe, and Forrest won’t show it, but he’s running himself ragged keeping a line with any critters he can get a hold of, all to make sure they know a threat before it comes.”