said as both Oralies let out a strangled sob. “He knew you’re my…”
“He must have,” the real Oralie whispered. “But I had no idea. He never said…” She leaned closer to his projection, shouting, “Why didn’t you tell me when I’d remember it?”
Kenric, of course, didn’t answer.
And Sophie studied him, trying to decide if she wanted to laugh or cry or teleport somewhere far, far away.
Another person she’d trusted, who’d hidden things and lied to her every time she saw him.
That was the worst part of being the moonlark—aside from having enemies trying to kill her all the time.
No one was ever quite who they pretended to be.
“What did he mean about you being ill?” she asked, trying to piece together as much of the real story as she could.
Oralie pressed her hand against her stomach. “The process of giving the Black Swan what they needed for your genetics turned out to be more involved than I expected—physically and emotionally. And Kenric stopped by right after I returned home from the procedure. I tried to hide it from him, but I nearly fainted just answering the door. So he insisted on taking care of me. But… I woke up alone. He told me he went home after I finally fell asleep. Apparently not.”
“And you’re the reason Quinlin thought his receptionist was reporting on him to the Council?” Sophie verified, remembering the first time Alden brought her to Atlantis. “Not Bronte?”
“It wasn’t like Bronte needed any convincing. All I did was suggest that Quinlin and Alden might be overstepping their authority—which they were. And then I made sure I received the reports on their activities so that I could monitor Alden’s progress and also remove any notes about you from the record. I was trying to protect you!”
Sophie had no idea what to do with that information, except to shove it into another mental box of Things She’d Have to Deal with Later.
Her brain was getting pretty cluttered with those.
Someday she’d have to get brave and try to unpack them. But for now, she turned back to the memory, watching Kenric hold up a hand to silence Oralie.
“Don’t bother with whatever lie you’re about to give,” he told her. “We both know I’m right. And… I understand. Or I’m trying to, anyway.”
“Kenric—”
“And if that’s why you have to stay, Ora, then I’m staying too.” He tucked one of her ringlets gently behind her ear. “You’re going to need all the allies you can get. Especially since someday the Black Swan is going to bring their moonlark into play. You know that, right?”
Oralie’s mouth started to form one word. But at the last second she changed to a hushed “yes.”
Kenric nodded gravely. “Do you know a lot of other things you aren’t telling me?”
“No. I swear, Kenric. That was part of the deal.” Her gaze shifted to her feet. “I’m completely separate.”
“Good. It’ll be easier to protect you that way.”
“I don’t need your protection!”
“Yes, you do. And you’ll have it. I’ll be right here by your side, even if I have to pretend that things between us are strictly professional. It’s okay,” he added, wiping away her fresh tears. “I knew this was how this conversation was going to go. Why do you think I’ve never said anything before? I just… had to say it—at least once. Just to see what would happen. And now seemed like a perfect time, since you won’t remember it anyway.”
Oralie closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “You can’t hide your feelings, Kenric. They’re there—every time I’m around you.”
His smile was heartbreaking. “I know. Empaths may be terrible liars—but they always find the deeper truth.”
“We’re not like Telepaths. We can’t bury it—or wash it away,” Oralie murmured.
“Very true.” Kenric tucked another ringlet behind her ear before he pulled her hood back into place and pressed two fingers against her temple. “Still, it’ll be hard for you to understand what you’re feeling without the context, right? So how about I help you with that? I think it’s time to put all of this behind us, don’t you?”
“What are you doing? You’re not supposed to—”
The projections blinked away, as if someone had flipped a switch.
In a way, Kenric had.
“Well,” Oralie said, curling her fingers around the cache and leaning against the trunk of the Panakes. “That… wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“Me neither,” Sophie agreed, trying to figure out which emotion to go with.
The memory had been intense, and fascinating, and devastating—but also ridiculously disappointing, and maddening, and