Finally I wove a disguising spell around me. The effect was like pulling sheer curtains over a sunny window. The spell dulled my coloring and softened my features. I had resorted to wearing it in London and had kept doing so when we returned to the present. No one would look at me twice now—except Matthew, who was scowling at the transformation.
“After we get to Oxford, I want you to stop wearing your disguising spell.” Matthew crossed his arms. “I hate that thing.”
“I can’t go around the university shimmering.”
“And I can’t go around killing people, even though I have blood rage,” Matthew said. “We all have our crosses to bear.”
“I thought you didn’t want anyone to know how much stronger my power is.” At this point I was worried that even casual observers would be drawn to me because of it. In another time, when there were more weavers about, I might not have been so conspicuous.
“I still don’t want Baldwin to know, or the rest of the de Clermonts. But please tell Sarah as soon as possible,” he said. “You shouldn’t have to hide your magic at home.”
“It’s annoying to weave a disguising spell in the morning and then take it off at night only to weave it again the next day. It’s easier to just keep it on.” That way I’d never be caught off guard by unexpected visitors or eruptions of undisciplined power.
“Our children are going to know who their mother truly is. They are not going to be brought up in the dark as you were.” Matthew’s tone brooked no argument.
“And is that sauce good for the gander as well as the goose?” I shot back. “Will the twins know their father has blood rage, or will you keep them in the dark like Marcus?”
“It’s not the same. Your magic is a gift. Blood rage is a curse.”
“It’s exactly the same, and you know it.” I took his hands in mine. “We’ve grown used to hiding what we’re ashamed of, you and I. It has to end now, before the children are born. Marcus knows about Benjamin and the blood rage. And after this latest crisis with the Congregation is resolved, we are going to sit down—as a family—and discuss the scion business.” Marcus was right: If forming a scion meant we wouldn’t have to obey Baldwin, it was worth considering.
“Forming a scion comes with responsibilities and obligations. You would be expected to behave like a vampire and function as my consort, helping me control the rest of the family.” Matthew shook his head. “You aren’t suited to that life, and I won’t ask it of you.”
“You’re not asking,” I replied. “I’m offering. And Ysabeau will teach me what I need to know.”
“Ysabeau will be the first to try to dissuade you. The pressure she was under as Philippe’s mate was inconceivable,” Matthew said. “When my father called Ysabeau his general, only the humans laughed.
Every vampire knew he was telling the gospel truth. Ysabeau forced, flattered, and cajoled us into doing Philippe’s bidding. He could run the whole world because Ysabeau managed his family with an iron fist.
Her decisions were absolute and her retribution swift. No one crossed her.”
“That sounds challenging but not impossible,” I replied mildly.
“It’s a full-time job, Diana.” Matthew’s irritation continued to climb. “Are you ready to give up being Professor Bishop in order to be Mrs. Clairmont?”
“Maybe it’s escaped your attention, but I already have.”
Matthew blinked.
“I haven’t advised a student, stood in front of a classroom, read an academic journal, or published an article in more than a year,” I continued.
“That’s temporary,” Matthew said sharply.
“Really?” My eyebrows shot up. “You’re ready to sacrifice your fellowship at All Souls in order to be Mr. Mom? Or are we going to hire a nanny to take care of our doubtless exceptionally challenging children while I go back to work?”
Matthew’s silence was telling. This issue had clearly never occurred to him. He’d simply assumed I would somehow juggle teaching and child care with no trouble at all. Typical, I thought, before plunging on.
“Except for a brief moment when you ran back to Oxford last year thinking you could play knight in shining armor and this moment of nerves, which I forgive you for, we’ve faced our troubles together.
What makes you think that would change?” I demanded.
“These aren’t your troubles,” Matthew replied.
“When I took you on, they became my troubles. We already share responsibility for our own children—why not yours