Blackbird Broken (The Witch King's Crown #2) - Keri Arthur Page 0,32
more likely of the two. He definitely had a way with the ladies.” I wrinkled my nose. “I doubt he’d have kept her locked away like that, though. He might not have wanted children just yet, but he would have supported them both.”
“There’s no evidence as yet that he—or whoever else the father might be—isn’t. She wasn’t living in a run-down area, after all.”
True. “I gather Jason will be doing a full background on her?”
“As a matter of course.” He hesitated. “Could she be your brother’s offspring?”
“He’s homosexual, not bi.”
“Which doesn’t mean anything these days. Plenty of homosexual men have used artificial insemination and a surrogate to have children.”
“Yes, but does my brother in any way look ready to settle down and support a kid? Hell, he can barely support himself half the time.”
“All true, and yet it remains a possibility you can’t deny.”
I sure as hell wanted to. “The only way we’ll ever find out is to do a DNA test.”
“I’m sure either Jason or even Ginny could arrange for that to be done ASAP.”
I frowned at the edge in his voice. “Why are you so certain she’s his?”
“I’m not. I just think it’s a possibility we have to remain open to.”
I rubbed my forehead wearily, as much to scrub away the thought of my brother having a kid for nefarious purposes as to ease the still thunderous ache in my head.
“If it is true, then I guess the next natural question is, why didn’t he tell us about her?”
“There’s only one person who can answer that question, Gwen.”
“And he’s the one person we can’t ask. Not yet. Not until we’re absolutely sure she’s his.”
But surely we hadn’t grown so distant that he was afraid to tell me he’d fathered a child via a surrogate? Did he think we’d in any way judge him for that?
Maybe, an inner voice whispered. He’s not the person you grew up with. Not anymore.
And the flashes of emotion I’d seen under the bridge certainly underscored that.
“You can’t keep making excuses for him, Gwen.”
“I’m not, but he is my brother. My twin. I have to believe him incapable of working with Darkside. At least until there’s indisputable proof saying otherwise.” God, if they could turn my brother onto the dark path, who couldn’t they get to?
“This kid might give you that proof,” Luc said.
“A DNA test will only prove whether she’s his or not. It doesn’t prove a connection to Darkside.” I hesitated. “And the very fact the Aranea killed her mother but left her alive means they might have been intending to use her as a hostage against him.”
It also meant that Darkside knew a whole lot more about my family than either Mo or I did—and that was damn scary.
“That’s also possible, especially if the new Witch King is intent on killing off the remaining heirs.”
“So why are they still coming after me?” Or, at least, the demons were. I didn’t want to think about the dark elves’ intentions. “If they were aware of this girl’s existence, wouldn’t she make the better hostage?”
“It appears they might have come to that conclusion today. As to why they’re still targeting you—maybe it’s got something to do with the sword’s reaction to you on the morning of the blessing.”
“Why? It’s not like I moved it or anything.”
But even as I said that, an echo of the power that had raced across my fingertips when I’d gripped the sword’s hilt rose, and I frowned at my hand. Was the storm that had roared through me this afternoon somehow connected to the sword? Perhaps the sword’s reaction to my touch had somehow broken whatever barrier had prevented me accessing the full power of both Nex and Vita up until that point. Perhaps that was the reason they’d finally ‘accepted’ me.
It was undoubtedly another of those questions Mo would know the answer to and wouldn’t share.
“It’s still an indicator that Aquitaine blood runs in both you and Max,” Luc commented.
I rubbed my forehead again. Thinking about all this was making the ache worse. “I really wish we had the De Montfort bible. I’ve a feeling it would provide more than a few answers.”
The phone rang before he could answer. I glanced at the screen, saw it was Mo, and picked it up. “How’d you do?”
“Ginny’s come through for us—she’s arranged the use of a safe house in Wigan.”
“Is that wise? She’d have to get permission from her bosses, and that probably means all sorts of forms and permissions—”