He spun then to face her. “To see you,” he admitted in a rush, his gaze roving over her as if she mystified him. “To try to understand.”
“I don’t understand,” Rania admitted.
“You never wondered, not once,” he repeated. “I would have known. You’ve lost the ring, lost your legacy and your touchstone, and I don’t think you care.” He shook his head. “You’re a disappointment.”
“I don’t see how I’m any concern of yours...”
“You were conceived in love. You were your mother’s last wish and the reason for her destruction. I had hoped that the poison of that place had not tainted you, that you were young enough, that you had escaped. I had hoped—” he raised a fist, then let it fall limply to his side. He frowned and cleared his throat. “I thought you would wonder and all would come right. I was wrong. If you can do this for the Dark Queen, then you nevr had a chance of becoming the woman I’d hoped you’d be.” He looked her up and down and swallowed. His voice was husky when he continued and his eyes were filled with inexplicable tears. “She named you Rania. Your name was one of the last things she said. You resemble her so much, with the exception of your cold, cold heart. It must be made of ice for you to do what you’ve done.” He smiled a little. “Hers had all the warmth of a midsummer day.”
“How do you know about my mother?” Rania demanded, but her visitor had already left the house. “Stop! Tell me more! I’m wondering now.” He didn’t slow his pace at all. Rania ran after him, pleading for him to linger, but he raised his arms and blue light shimmered around him.
She knew in that instant that he was a shifter, too, but not what kind. She watched in awe as he leaped into the sky and became a large white swan in the blink of an eye. Her questions were silenced by the sight of such a magnificent and large bird. His feathers were radiantly white and, like Hadrian, he made flight look effortless. Rania could only stand and stare. His wingspan was enormous and each stroke was powerful. She watched him fly high, watched until he disappeared from sight, then she looked down at the kitchen knife, still in her hand.
Rania had the definite sense that something precious had slipped away from her.
How had he known about her mother?
Why hadn’t she ever wondered about her parents?
What had that shard been in her hand? How long had it been inside her? And why had it emerged from her skin now?
It had something to do with Hadrian and his firestorm. He was changing her as surely as if he’d cast a spell upon her. He wanted to live, and he didn’t care about the price, but Rania feared the implications. What would happen to her brothes if she failed Maeve? What would happen to her?
Maeve might kill her as she’d be one of the Others.
Rania pivoted and went back to her armory, then chose a special weapon for Hadrian’s demise. She was looking forward to retrieving that ring.
And then, she’d have all the time in the world to wonder.
Once again, Hadrian felt his mate’s return before he saw it.
It was early evening and the shadows in his studio were drawing long. He’d raided the provisions and cooked a beef stew for dinner, and the aroma had awakened Alasdair and Balthasar. They’d eaten together and he’d returned to his studio, intent on making every moment count. Alasdair had promised to tell the story of Notus and his firestorm, but after he composed his thoughts a bit.
The light of the firestorm flared suddenly, competing with the light from Hadrian’s forge, and a wave of desire nearly took him to his knees. She was behind him and he didn’t have to turn around to know she brandished a weapon.
“Why a blacksmith?” he asked and felt her pause. “You chose me because of my profession. Don’t I have the right to know why that’s important?” He glanced over his shoulder to find confusion clouding her gaze again. Then her eyes narrowed.
“You talk too much.”
She brandished a kesir, a weapon he recognized easily by its distinctive wavy blade. Hadrian was flattered that she was pulling out the good stuff for him.
He laughed at her accusation. “It’s been said before. Why a blacksmith?”