The sky was still dark, but streetlamps shed pools of warm, bright light. The air felt cold and sharp against Kat’s face, and snowflakes danced and fluttered through the shafts of light.
“I am sorry,” Lancelot said roughly, turning to face Kat, shoulders drawing back under her gaze. “I wish I had known your mother had gotten pregnant.”
“But you did find us eventually.” Kat eyed him, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “So it wasn’t impossible, if you’d bothered to check. Which might have been the logical thing to do, considering you hadn’t worn a condom.”
“We don’t,” Lancelot said, the words clipped. “The Gift is genetic. Unmarried knights”—he slanted a glance at his wife—“are expected to father children whenever possible. Sexually transmitted diseases aren’t a problem for us, so . . . ”
She stiffened, stared. “You got my mother pregnant on purpose?”
“I didn’t know whether she was fertile, or if she’d made arrangements of her own.” He sighed. “I know that sounds callous.”
“It is callous—Dad.” Kat rocked forward on her toes and glared up into his eyes. “Regardless of all the other shit that happened, you gave her another mouth to feed and did absolutely nothing to help support me.”
Lancelot met her furious gaze without flinching, though a flush spread across his high cheekbones.
“Yes, I got her pregnant. And no, I made no effort to find out if she needed help. I can’t change that, but I would if I could. And I will do everything in my power to make it right.” Yeah, right, Kat thought bitterly.
Lancelot pulled a thick gold signet ring off his finger. “I asked Grace to prepare this for you. If you need me, say my name, and it will bring me to you. At any time.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “And yes, I know it would have been nice to have it fifteen years ago.” In her anger, Kat wanted to snarl something dramatic and throw the ring in his face. But judging by the icy dignity in his eyes, he was expecting just that, so she gave him a slight, cold nod instead and accepted it. “Thank you.”
He gave her a courtier’s bow that looked automatic and completely natural, then reached for his wife’s hand. “We’ll see you later, Kat. Ridge.”
The four exchanged nods—Grace’s was a little cool—then turned and went their separate ways.
Silence spun out between Ridge and Kat, filled only by the click of their heels on the cobblestones. “I don’t understand how she can just ignore what he does.” Her voice sounded clipped to her own ears, smoky with anger and frustration.
“Grace?” Ridge slanted her a look.
“Yeah. I mean, the man is a legendary seducer. He and Arthur’s wife . . . ”
“Legends often exaggerate. It really wasn’t that simple. Besides, Grace and Lance are Truebonded.
Neither of them could cheat now even if they wanted to.”
“Truebonded?” She glanced over at him, curious.
“A deep magical union Magekind couples create. Truebonded partners can sense each other’s emotions, even thoughts. They can use the bond to reinforce one another’s powers magically. It’s the most profound kind of marriage two people can share.”
She frowned deeply, considering the idea. “Doesn’t sound like you’d have a lot of privacy.”
“I’m told you learn how and when to give each other space.” Looking up into his handsome face, Kat found herself wondering what it would be like to share that kind of relationship with Ridge.
It sounded . . . intriguing.
Kat leaned against the gleaming stone countertop in Ridge’s kitchen, sipped her wine, and watched him chop salad vegetables with impressive skill.
For a man who didn’t eat, he certainly seemed to know his way around a kitchen. The mouthwatering smell of cooking meat curled up from the oven, where a steak was currently on the broil.
“There’s something you need to know,” Ridge began as he tossed the salad. “It may make the situation with Lance a little more understandable. And besides, nobody needs to become a Maja without knowing this stuff.”
She studied him over the rim of her wineglass. The Riesling was delicately fruity and sweet. “And that would be?”
“Only about one in a hundred of our children can become Magekind without going insane,” Ridge told her bluntly. “And it’s not an insanity that we can treat. That’s why the Magi are under orders not to use protection when they have sex. We need every Latent we can get in order to have any chance of finding one who can survive the Gift.”
Kat’s eyes widened. “But that means—”
“We have to watch the vast majority of our children die of old age. Lance told me once that he’d lost fifty-two children and grandchildren that way, before he decided he could no longer stand to have any contact with his mortal offspring.”
“Fifty-two?” If the loss of one child had almost driven her mother insane, how had Lance tolerated watching child after child die?